


WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS

by moonweaver



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, BAKTWeek2020, BkAkKrTkWeek2020, M/M, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, akaashi is a very pretty willow tree dryad, bokuto is an owlbeast and FLIES, day 5 - supernatural, kuroo is a fire salamander and spits flames at u, tsukki is a frost giant!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonweaver/pseuds/moonweaver
Summary: Kuroo grinned, unaffected by the refusal of his ‘affections’. “Oikawa saw me after I’d distracted Konoha on Tsukki’s floor; started bugging me about if I knew where Hanamaki was. As if I’d know where that strawberry-head could be—oh, no offense, Tsukki.”“I’m offended that you implied I’d be offended in the first place.”“Exactly! Anyway, he held me up for a while...started talking about the match…” Kuroo’s grin lost most of its humour; Akaashi felt similarly sour at the reminder. “Woulda defenestrated him if Iwaizumi hadn’t shown up.”“Hey, we’re your boyfriends!”“It means to throw someone out a window, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said.“Oh.”---WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS — four monsters go a-murderin’.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108
Collections: BokuAkaKuroTsuki Week 2020





	WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS

**Author's Note:**

> **Day 5: Supernatural**
> 
> Hell yeah it's bakt week!! So excited to participate in an event week for a ship that's so dear to my heart, and for one of my favourite AUs! (such a sucker for supernatural/fantasy...) This work was a team-up with [matcha](https://twitter.com/matchachamomile), who drew the [INCREDIBLE ARTWORK](https://twitter.com/matchachamomile/status/1324341280055324673/) for the fic post on twitter!! I owe matcha my life and my heart and my soul for being so goddamn amazing all the time. pls join the matcha fanclub with me mwah
> 
> Massive thank you to [diwa](https://twitter.com/diwaachan) and [momo](https://twitter.com/martialarcs) for beta-ing! Diwa, if it wasn't for you I don't think I could have ever completed this. Thank you SO MUCH for guiding my story back on track!!
> 
> Each header in this fic is a line from the chorus of [Feel the Way I Do](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKUrZv6cGT4) by the Jungle Giants, which is a bkakkrtsk song through and through and ESPECIALLY so for this AU. And the title was taken from that one movie...never watched it, but I always felt the title would be more appropriate for...something else? lmfao
> 
> ☽
> 
> Disclaimer: I played super fast and loose with the rules when coming up with the creatures/monsters for this fic. Some stray a fair bit from their irl mythologies, others I invented at random because I felt they fit lol
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

**i. _i know you feel the way i do_**

Out of all the undead, ghouls were some of Kuroo’s favourites to beat up when he wanted something mindless to do. The creatures were pests, swarming about forests with their pale bony limbs and setting upon anything with a pulse, ripping it to pieces with sharp, cruel fingers. They were also hilariously stupid—if a ghoul came across a minotaur, it would still be trying to gnaw at it even as the minotaur ripped its body clean in two.

Kuroo easily skipped aside as a ghoul lunged at him, then hopped deftly backward, using his tail for balance, as one more lurched out of the mist. The undead crashed into each other, falling down in a caterwauling tangle which Kuroo was about to leap onto when a third ghoul came shambling out behind him, leading the way with its jagged tooth-filled maw.

He grinned, jumping up and lashing his reptilian tail out, wrapping it around the ghoul’s arm and yanking it close. The instant he latched his clawed hand around its arm he groaned in disgust. Despite being all gaunt and angled, what flesh ghouls did have possessed the same horrible softness as bloated, rotting meat. He gagged as his claws sank into the pale ghoul-flesh; he didn’t feel like suppressing his nausea, so he belched it up in fire and set the ghoul’s head alight.

It screeched, flailing backward with its arms windmilling in the air. Kuroo snickered, quickly turning back to stomp on the heads of the fallen ghouls who had recovered enough to start scrabbling at his ankles. The orange glow from his tail flickered in the corner of his eye—the scales always lit up like embers when he used his fire.

It wasn’t like he needed the light, though, since the burning ghoul was a very helpful torch lighting the way to the clearing, which was where Kuroo had split up from the others. And thanks to its light he could see it was headed straight for some dry underbrush.

“Shit, shit, come back!” Kuroo yelped. He dashed forward and kicked the ghoul away from the undergrowth and into the clearing, where it finally collapsed onto the dirt, undead body slowly crumbling into ash.

He groaned in relief and rolled his shoulders, twisting to check his arms. The black scales layered over the back of his forearms were stained with viscera, which he sloughed off with a sigh. He curved his tail in front of him to check that, too. It was free from blood, thank gods. Its luminescent light hadn’t faded yet.

There was a scuffle at the other end of the clearing, followed by several ghouls flying through the air into its centre. A figure emerged from the trees: a person-shaped silhouette surrounded by jagged outlines, which Kuroo immediately recognised as branches. 

_There he is_ , Kuroo thought happily. Squishing the vermin of the underworld was _always_ better with one or more of his boyfriends around. “Where were you?” he called out, neatly hopping over the body of his burned quarry and skirting around the pile of ghouls in the clearing’s middle. 

“Kuroo-san? Quick, move,” Akaashi ordered.

Kuroo leaped to the side, seeing what Akaashi was going to do. The willow dryad stretched out both his arms and they elongated into branches in a blink, wrapping around the ghouls and crushing them all together. They writhed like bugs caught in a spider’s web.

Some of them were trying to chew at the bark, but Akaashi wasn’t so much as twitching. He actually seemed kind of impatient, huffing aside the willow leaves that were drooping out of his hair into his eyes. “Lend me a hand, please,” he called out.

Kuroo felt a grin stretch across his face as he bounded over. “Saving them for me? Jeez, Keiji, you’re too kind.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but he _was_ smirking, just the tiniest bit.

The monsters moaned and struggled, maybe sensing their impending doom. Too bad for them, Kuroo thought devilishly, almost at Akaashi’s side—then he saw movement behind the trees. “Keiji, behind!”

Without turning, Akaashi stomped a foot heavily on the ground. The impact of it reverberated up Kuroo’s bones even though he was still several feet away, and he saw the earth churning in a line which rushed from Akaashi’s foot toward the trees. As the two ghouls scrambled out, gibbering, a thick tree root erupted from the ground and snared around their waists, whipping them toward the rest of the pack.

It happened so fast Kuroo barely had time to blink. “Fuck, amazing,” he breathed instead. Akaashi’s eyes gleamed beneath the strands of his willow-leaf hair.

“You ready?” he asked, twigs and leaves fluttering around him as the monsters tried to free themselves.

Kuroo shifted back into a half-crouch, balancing on the balls of his feet. His tail curled behind him, its glow growing sharp and intense. “Already on it!”

Akaashi abruptly retracted his branches, dropping the ghouls all over each other like marbles. “Now!”

Kuroo sucked in a massive breath and roared out a bellow of flame. All the air and heat gushed out of him to engulf the ugly white undead, turning them into a gigantic bonfire that blazed high above his and Akaashi’s heads.

It was so damn _satisfying_ how the vast majority of undead were weak to fire—the element which, as a fire salamander, was intrinsically part of Kuroo’s nature. Once he set corpses from the underworld ablaze, it was like the supernatural forces reanimating them were scorched right out of their vessels.

Kuroo held his hands out, warming them over the fire, which was already starting to sputter a bit as the ghouls began to disintegrate. They let off a distinct sour smell that mixed in with the acrid smoke, stinging his nose. Ugh, maybe burning ghouls in a pack had its downsides.

His eyes watering slightly, Kuroo stepped back a few paces, turning to look for Akaashi. The dryad had probably retreated further toward the treeline, because even though he could grow his bark tough enough to resist fire to an extent, he wasn’t overly fond of open flames.

Kuroo jumped as something twined around his stomach, but relaxed when he realised it was a willow-tree branch. He gave it a pat as it picked him up carefully, carrying him back from the fire to the shadows under the trees where Akaashi was standing.

“Hey there,” Kuroo said as the branch deposited him on his feet.

Akaashi looked up at him, his eyes shadowed by the flickering firelight. Willow bark had crept up the left side of his neck and face, radiating up from his shoulder. As the branch uncurled from Kuroo’s waist and began to turn back into an arm, the bark receded, leaving pale brown skin in its place.

“Nice work,” he said, leaning up to press a dry, slightly scratchy kiss to Kuroo’s cheek. His willow leaves tickled Kuroo’s jawline.

“Right back at ya, Keiji.” Kuroo grinned, running his fingers through the soft dark hair at the base of the leaves.

An echoing howl boomed through the air, but it was such a familiar sound that neither of them flinched. Right on its heels came a less familiar noise: a deep shattering like the cracking of a frozen lake, and then a spire of solid ice burst through the canopy across the clearing. If Kuroo squinted, he thought he could see pale white arms flopping out from the top. 

He exchanged a glance with Akaashi. Something big must have happened for Tsukishima to go overboard like that.

They both hastened over the clearing together in the direction of the ice, scanning the darkness behind the trees. “Bokuto? Tsukki?” Kuroo called, holding his tail up like a lamp. The mist eddied along the ground, creating fleeting impressions of creatures scurrying about just out of sight. Kuroo coaxed a bit of fire out of the glands in his throat, just in case.

There was a series of quiet hoots.

“Bokuto-san?” It was Akaashi calling this time, stepping toward the gloom. Kuroo proffered his tail higher and was about to follow when Akaashi halted. “I can feel them coming this way,” he said, probably having used his roots to extend his senses along the ground. “They feel...I think they’re alright.”

“No monsters with ‘em?” Kuroo murmured.

“None. Tsukishima definitely finished them off.” As one, they looked up to where the glitter of ice was visible through shifting leaves.

More hoots echoed through the forest, this time closer to laughter than actual bird calls. Kuroo felt himself relax. There was the rustle of branches being pushed aside and a moment later Bokuto popped out of the trees, yellow eyes sparkling, feathers matted with blood and ichor. His owl wings were folded behind his back, but was probably just as dirty. Tsukki followed him, shoving tree boughs away from the small horns on his head as he came back down to his normal seven-foot height.

Akaashi exhaled audibly as the two joined them, the tension bleeding out of his back. “Bokuto-san, you’re filthy,” he said, licking his thumb and rubbing the blood off Bokuto’s cheek.

“You didn’t burn up my clothes, right?” Tsukishima asked Kuroo, gaze sliding over his shoulder as if he could see all the way to the forest's edge. The jötunn’s—or, frost giant’s—skin had faded from glacial aquamarine to its usual pale blue, but his bare chest was still rough with icy ridges.

Kuroo poked that bare chest with the tip of his glowing tail. “Your clothes are safe, strawberries and all,” he said with a lazy smile. Tsukishima tended to avoid wearing shirts, jackets, and the like when he activated his frost giant powers in earnest, since it made him grow a full foot taller and his chest, arms, and shoulders swelled out as they were covered in thick crags of ice. If he was wearing looser fitting pants, they generally survived, but his tops weren’t always so lucky.

Tsukishima scowled at the contact, brushing the tail away. “The undead on your end were taken care of?” he asked Akaashi.

“We built a bonfire,” Akaashi said, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “But, yes, everything went well.”

“What happened with _you_ guys?” Kuroo asked, rocking back on his heels to stare up at the towering ice. 

“We thought we had all of them,” Tsukishima said, refusing to look back in the same direction. “But there were a few who. Uh. Caught us unawares.”

“We were making out,” Bokuto explained cheerfully. “Then a ghoul almost got me.”

“I handled it,” Tsukishima said crossly, avoiding all their gazes.

Bokuto turned on him with a sappy smile, planting a smooch on his jaw. “You totally did.”

They returned the short distance to the clearing, where the pile of ghouls had almost collapsed fully into ash. Their sour stink still hung in the air, making Tsukki’s nose wrinkle. Bokuto didn’t really react, but then, the owlbeast had never had a great sense of smell.

“Shoulda brought marshmallows,” he said thoughtfully, prodding a lump of ash with his foot.

“Ugh, that would’ve been perfect,” Kuroo groused, running a hand through his hair. Trust Bokuto to have the best ideas.

“It would taste like ghoul,” Akaashi said absently, still scraping out the bits of gore stuck in the plumage around Bokuto’s ear tufts. “Hey, come a bit closer.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to go to class tomorrow. Why does break have to be so short?” Bokuto grumbled, bending his head toward Akaashi obediently. 

“Don’t ask me,” Akaashi retorted. “But we should get going now before the teachers catch us out here.”

“Come on, they can’t punish us if it’s the holidays.” Bokuto’s face fell as Akaashi paused in his preening, giving him a Look. “Right?”

“Not even Takeda-sensei would let that slide.” Being outside the school grounds, it was forbidden for students to wander the forest unchaperoned by a senior or a teacher. It wasn’t as though the rule would be dropped just because they were on break.

Karasuno Monster High was currently having its week-long autumn holiday. The four of them had collectively decided to stay at the boarding school—with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo having come from halfway across the country; it’d be too much hassle for them to go back home. And none of them really felt like splitting up.

Moreover, Karasuno was just a nice place. Schools such as this one were designed to accommodate monsters. Merpeople who could start shrivelling up within the span of an hour? You’d be allowed to run back to your rooms for a quick shower (and there was also a lake on the school grounds). Half-demons clumsily ripping open gates to the underworld? Ukai-sensei’ll staple it up and give you detention. Four of your monster students need to blow off steam? Great, here’s a forest filled with supernatural pests to stamp out.

Not that that last one was _precisely_ why the school had been built next to a forest, but whatever.

Kuroo eyed Tsukishima as the last of the crystalline ridges sank back into his chest, leaving the barest shimmer behind. He reached out to touch him again, but the jötunn slapped his hand away.

“We should hurry up.” Tsukishima frowned at the ground, twisting his fingers together. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the teachers noticed the commotion. Sorry.” 

“What for? You were protecting me,” Bokuto said effusively, slipping away from Akaashi’s preening to affectionately rub his feathered, still-bloody head under Tsukishima’s chin.

“Stop it, that’s gross.” Tsukishima flinched away from the gesture, his cheeks blushing muted cerulean, but it had mostly dispelled his bothered countenance.

They left the ghoul-ash pile behind them and followed the forest trail back to the tall stone wall surrounding the school. Tsukishima’s clothes were waiting where he’d left them folded up in a neat pile behind a tree stump. He shrugged into them quickly, Akaashi using his branches to help him into his jacket, a dusty pink bomber emblazoned with red strawberry patches on the chest. It had made Kuroo take to calling him _strawberry shortcake_ , but only when he was out of range so the jötunn couldn’t throw any ice lances at him.

The lightless windows of the school were like big black eyes glaring at them as they crept by, heading toward the side of the dormitory building where they’d climb up into their rooms. Kuroo ushered them all ahead, watching their backs for roving teachers even though Bokuto was the one with the superior eyesight. The owlbeast in question was too distracted, anyway, excitedly whispering to Tsukki and Akaashi, his wings flaring and bumping into their arms. The fact they were paying attention meant that they were also in a good mood.

Which was why Kuroo was the only one to see movement at the base of the dorm building’s steps. He’d been so caught up in staring at his boyfriends that he’d actually almost missed it, but the familiar shape in his peripherals had him hissing, “ _Wait_!”

It was too late, though.

Takeda stepped out of the shadows, stopping them in their tracks. The faun teacher looked at them one by one in heavy silence, his arms folded across his chest. They must have been a sight: four teenage monsters in tattered clothing, covered in ghoul-filth and probably stinking to high heaven.

Kuroo wasn’t sure which of the teachers would have been the worst to face at that moment. Ukai would have been spitting mad, his centaur hooves stamping at the ground as he yelled at them, and Ouno would stare them down so coldly they might as well be turned to stone (although the gorgon woman swore she’d never use her powers on students). Takeda’s vexation came in the form of disappointment, all conveyed in the way the frown on his face and the bleak look in his eyes. _I expected better of you_ , those eyes said. The mouth said, “Good evening, boys. Where were you?”

Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. We went for a walk?”

“I see. And that walk took you...out of the school grounds.”

Bokuto scuffed the ground with his foot. His wings were pulled in tightly against his body, his ear tufts standing up on end. Kuroo resisted the urge to give him a hug from behind.

“Yes,” Akaashi spoke up. “Because we wanted to...stargaze. And you can see the stars better out there.”

It was such a piss-poor excuse, Kuroo suddenly felt a wild urge to laugh. He managed to restrain himself, so it came out as a hacking cough instead.

Takeda shot him a stern glare. “Star gazing is a messy business, then?”

“We ran into some trouble, sensei. But we handled it,” Akaashi said.

Takeda sighed. “Apparently. Creating that much ice is one thing, but also setting fires? In the _forest_?”

“You saw that?” Kuroo blurted.

“The dormitory has windows, Kuroo-kun,” Takeda said dryly. “I won’t ask why you all decided to do something so irresponsible, but I do recall you four promised last term to not take any more _nighttime walks_.”

An uncomfortable silence.

“I expect to see you all at my desk tomorrow morning,” Takeda said, turning to escort them inside. His goat hooves clicked quietly on the pavement. “Take off your shoes before you go in, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo glanced down, belatedly realising that ghoul guts were streaked across his jeans and shoes. “Yes, sensei.”

Tsukishima and Akaashi led the way inside and down the hall, close enough together for Tsukishima’s fingers to brush against Akaashi’s arm as they walked. A slender willow branch had crept up to twine around Tsukishima’s wrist. 

Bokuto trudged beside Kuroo, his feathers still all flattened against his body. His face was mournful to an almost exaggerated point, so Kuroo nudged him to get his attention, then blew him a kiss. Bokuto brightened immediately, miming catching it and gulping it down. Kuroo clapped a hand to his mouth to muffle his wheeze of laughter.

Despite Takeda’s palpable exasperation, Kuroo thought that all in all, it had been a good end to autumn break.

* * *

They were still given detention for a week.

Ouno made sure to seat them at separate corners of the room. Akaashi was detached, Tsukishima was sullen, Bokuto was antsy. Kuroo also felt kind of frenetic—being cooped up in the classroom made him want to open a gate to the underworld and cause another infestation just so he could stomp some undead skulls.

They _had_ promised Takeda they’d stay away from ‘nighttime walks’, but the forest had always been their place to let loose in. It was his and Bo’s, first. Then they met Akaashi and he got integrated into their escapades—from the outside, one might assume he came along because of peer pressure, but Kuroo knew he enjoyed feeling responsible for them. 

It had been harder to entice Tsukishima, after he made their trio into a quartet, but by some stroke of luck they’d managed to convince him. That had resulted in being one of their best sneak-out nights ever, because Tsukishima became more relaxed when he knew there weren’t other eyes on him, and a relaxed Tsukki was just that bit more prone to being irresponsible and carefree.

He still tended to resist when they nudged him to come, if only for rolling his eyes at their enthusiasm rather than wanting to appear a straight-laced student. He’d usually cave in the end—no small thanks to the sly looks Akaashi could wield, a half-lidded smirk that put the _forbidden_ in the _forest_.

Fuck, Tsukishima would kill Kuroo if he heard him crack that pun. He wouldn’t be able to deny that Kuroo was right, though, the fire salamander thought confidently.

Their trip last term, which was the occasion Takeda had been referring to, hadn’t gone as smoothly. A chupacabra had followed them back onto the school grounds and Kuroo had set it on fire—of course they had been noticed right away. Now this time with the ghouls, their fighting had gone well, but Takeda had still caught them.

As it was, their punishment extended to having to check in at specific times with Takeda during the afternoon and with their dorm supervisor Daichi in the evening. Daichi was a fellow student, but looked at Kuroo like a tired father when he came to the half-oceanid’s room to sign the attendance form at 6pm, 8pm, and 10pm. Kuroo flicked his nose every time.

“Moniwa’s on night duties, so he’ll be checking on your rooms. Don’t even think about climbing out the window or busting through the walls, or whatever,” Daichi said sternly at the 10pm check in. The webs between his fingers glittered in the light as he took back the form.

“Yessir,” Kuroo said, doing the customary nose-flick before turning to saunter down the hall, hands stuck in pockets. Daichi grumbled unintelligibly behind him.

He passed Tsukishima by the stairwell, the blonde having come up to the third floor from the first-years’ rooms on the ground level. “Hey, Tsukki.”

“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima acknowledged, then yawned widely. His pale golden eyes went all squinty; it did things to Kuroo’s heart.

“You wanna drop by me n’ Bo’s room for a bit afterwards?” he asked. “Keiji’s not there, though—got some partner project going on.”

“Not tonight, sorry. I’m kind of tired.”

That was fair enough. Kuroo tilted his head, looking up at the jötunn, who was scratching the base of one of his horns. He was so damn tall, but that made Kuroo want to hug him even more.

“Kuroo-san, are you going to move?” Because Kuroo was still standing in the doorway, his coal-black tail coiled behind him.

“Go down a few steps,” he prodded, refusing to budge until Tsukishima obeyed and they were almost at eye-level, a position where Kuroo could lean forward to reach his mouth.

It was cold like the rest of him, deliciously so, like an alpine river. As a rule, Kuroo didn’t like low temperatures, but Tsukishima’s cold was like a refreshing bite that cracked into his core, melted, reformed. His lips now sent pinpricks stinging over Kuroo’s skin, but it was like being shocked awake.

Kuroo gave as good as he got; he knew Tsukki felt the same way about his heat as Kuroo did about his cold. So he went a step further, gently parting Tsukishima’s lips with his own and calling the tiniest thread of fire to the back of his throat.

Tsukishima sighed and steam escaped from between their lips, fogging up his glasses. Kuroo felt the stubborn cold whisper into his mouth, battling against the undercurrent of his fire until his tongue was tingling with the beginnings of numbness.

When they separated, he had to chuckle at how the fogged-up lenses obscured Tsukishima’s eyes. “G’night, Tsukki,” he said softly, and pecked his cold cheek. “Sleep well.”

**ii. _‘cause there ain't nobody else like us out here_**

They were four weeks into the new term. Detention was long behind them, the weekend started tomorrow, and Kuroo was sulking.

Akaashi leaned his cheek on his hand, observing his boyfriend. Kuroo was slumped at the desk beside him, his chin resting on his hands as he frowned at the blackboard. He’d tossed his baseball cap on the ground by the desk. The vibrant burn of his eyes had dimmed to a simmering resentment, and his tail was limp on the ground like a dead snake.

Akaashi and the others had found the best way to pull Kuroo out of a sulk was with patient and reassuring touches, brief but constant, reassuring him that there was someone there. He would begin to lean backwards into the touches, then his tongue would loosen and all the frustrations would tumble out.

This time, though, Akaashi knew exactly why Kuroo was sulking. It was why he himself was feeling grumpy, making the willow bark on his back itch. Tsukishima, who was glaring at the wall like it wanted to eat his children, appeared to be feeling the same way.

One of the reasons for their collective bad mood suddenly made itself known below the classroom window as a piercing, melodious “ _Iwa-chan_!” gusted past. That meant the second reason was close by. Who knew where the third and fourth were.

Kuroo blew a disgusted raspberry. Akaashi felt the sentiment deeply. 

Just that afternoon, they’d had a four-on-four outdoor volleyball match which they’d barely lost. Now it wouldn’t be them going to Kamomedai Extraordinary in Nagano for the Inter-monster-high sports tournament, but the other quartet, half of whom had started squabbling outside the classroom.

What made Akaashi want to grind his teeth was the fact it had been a fair game, even if Oikawa Tooru’s and Daishou Suguru’s smug faces made you want to believe otherwise. Daishou in particular was prone to using underhanded means to achieve his ends, but Sugawara Koushi was with them and thus kept him in line. It was mainly thanks to Sugawara that they had retained their cohesiveness, and add onto that the cannon of Iwaizumi Hajime, dragon ace extraordinaire, and they’d managed to upstage Akaashi’s team.

Getting bested by Oikawa and Daishou in particular really rubbed Kuroo and Tsukishima the wrong way—while Akaashi’s boyfriends were masters of provocation, they were in turn ridiculously susceptible to being provoked. A few gloating words from the siren and naga had Kuroo and Tsukishima fuming.

They’d (mostly) kept it bottled up though, being ‘gracious’ about their defeat until they could shuffle off to be in private. Unfortunately Bokuto had been summoned by a teacher, so the remaining three had wandered into the first empty classroom they found to wait for him—which led to them sitting there, sulking.

There was a crash below them, then another sing-song “ _Iwa-chan_!” The siren really did sound quite beguiling even when he wasn’t using his powers.

Kuroo blew another raspberry, making a rude gesture at the window. This made Tsukishima let out a muffled snort and at that, Akaashi felt the atmosphere lighten somewhat. He relaxed back in his chair, the prickly feeling of bark under his skin subsiding.

Kuroo sat back up too, swinging his arms behind him and gazing at the ceiling. “That stupid snake,” he said, smoke rolling out of his nostrils. “I’m totally gonna get him back for this.”

“Aren’t you kind of a snake yourself, Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked, keeping his expression carefully blank.

“Just because we’re both reptilian—!” Kuroo blustered, then realised he’d fallen for Akaashi’s bait. “Aw, fuck you, Keiji.”

“Hey now, we’re in a classroom,” Akaashi said flatly, raising his hands in mock-protest. Kuroo groaned loudly, tilting his chair back on its rear legs.

Tsukishima sniggered again. Akaashi looked back to shoot a lopsided smile up at the jötunn, enjoying how he predictably coloured—but appreciating how he looked made Akaashi feel a bit hot around the ears in turn, so they were both losers in the end. Or maybe winners.

“Bokuto-san sure is taking his time,” Tsukishima said, summoning an ice crystal into his hand and chucking it at Kuroo’s head. The fire salamander yelped in surprise, his chair falling back to all four legs with a thud.

“He probably forgot his class rep duties again,” Akaashi said. “You know how he is.”

“Feather-brained?” Kuroo tried, waggling his eyebrows at them.

“Flighty,” offered Tsukishima.

Kuroo guffawed. “A hatchling!”

“I can _hear_ you guys from halfway across the school,” Bokuto huffed from outside the classroom. “And it’s ‘owlet’!”

The owlbeast came to the doorway with his arms crossed, lower lip stuck out. His broad torso filled almost the entire space, his mottled grey wings folded around him.

“Are you saying you’re an owlet?” Akaashi raised his eyebrow; Bokuto poked his tongue out. The piercing in it flashed.

“I was gonna share something cool with you guys, but if you’re gonna be like that…” He leaned against the doorframe, feigning nonchalance. Well, as much as Bokuto could feign anything, which wasn’t much at all. His black and white feathers were puffed out on his head in a sure sign of excitement. 

Tsukishima said exactly what Akaashi was thinking, tying it off with a pretty bow of a smirk. “You’re going to tell us anyway.”

“Nuh uh,” Bokuto insisted, using his wing to dramatically hide the lower portion of his face. His wide yellow eyes blinked at them in mock-innocence.

Kuroo was balancing on the back legs of his chair again. “Tell us, feather-brain. I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You kiss me all the time.” Bokuto’s eyes shone the same way they did when he spotted a particularly fat mouse.

Kuroo poked his forked tongue out. “This’ll be a _special_ kiss.”

A shiver rustled Bokuto’s wings. His blinking became quite rapid.

He was so astonishingly easy to read, Akaashi thought, glancing from him to Kuroo. The air between them had become charged—and since Akaashi was also in the middle of it, he suddenly felt a bit on edge. 

Bokuto’s wing snapped down. “Deal.”

He grabbed a chair, spinning it around to straddle it. Kuroo leaned forward attentively; Tsukishima simply crossed his arms over his chest. Akaashi laced his fingers together, waiting.

“Ok, so I had to go up to our homeroom, yeah? Nekomata-sensei wanted me to fill out some forms I forgot about—”

 _Told you_ , Akaashi mouthed over at Tsukishima.

“—and I was writing and writing...I think I started inventing words about halfway through, then I heard Ouno-sensei in the room above us. She was saying something about a tsuchigumo cluster near the waterfall caves in the forest. Apparently they’d come from over east where an underworld gate was opened.”

Tsuchigumo were spider demons with a leg span of ten feet and with the heads of human skulls. They tended to reside in colonies in the underworld’s forests or mountains, but if a gate was opened the smaller, more active ones would slip through. Only by destroying the skull or severing their spinal cords could they be killed.

Kuroo jumped up, knocking his chair over. Tsukishima had to jerk his long legs to the side to avoid being hit. “Let’s go!”

“Hell yeah, bro!” Bokuto leapt to his feet and high-fived him, then hurriedly lowered his voice. “Shit, someone’ll hear us.”

“We just finished detention,” Tsukishima said. 

“That was weeks ago!”

“Sawamura-san would suspect something, especially after today’s match.”

“We’ve been on our best behaviour since week one, if we show them we’re all good he’ll drop his guard,” Kuroo pointed out.

“If you’re too happy, he’ll know you’re faking it,” Akaashi broke in, referring to Kuroo and Bokuto. Tsukishima or himself couldn’t ever be mistaken as looking _too_ happy.

Kuroo flapped his hand. “Don’t worry; if I see Daishou, my reaction will be genuine.”

“Tsuchigumo, though.” Tsukishima unsubtly returned to the original topic. “We haven’t studied them before. First-years, I mean.”

Bokuto smiled widely. “We all have, so we can show you the ropes! And I just want to take my mind off today, y’know? I still feel kinda shitty about it. Even though as soon as they get back from Kamomedai, I’m gonna show Iwaizumi who’s the top ace around here.”

“Same,” said Kuroo. “Not about the ace thing, the first bit. I wanna imagine Daishou’s dumb face on each of those gross tsuchigumo spider bodies.”

Akaashi chewed his lip as Bokuto looked at him questioningly. Dealing with tsuchigumo would take a little bit of thinking, as they were smarter than ghouls,. Not to mention, their skulls were stupidly tough, and severing their spinal cords took a measure of control and precision. He’d actually fought them before, as had Kuroo and Bokuto, but only during supervised class assignments. He’d be lying to say his interest wasn’t piqued, and he wanted to dispel the residual bitterness he still felt from their loss.

“I’ll come,” he decided.

Tsukishima gusted a sigh.

“It won’t be half as fun if you’re not there, Tsukki,” Bokuto said pleadingly. “And if we fight ‘em together now, you’ll be light years ahead of the other first years!”

That was actually quite a solid argument, for Bokuto. Akaashi was impressed. Tsukishima, however, still appeared skeptical.

“You can imagine they have Oikawa’s face,” Kuroo suggested.

Tsukishima raised both eyebrows. Akaashi held his breath.

“...Fine.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you, as you’re a newbie,” Akaashi teased gently.

“Newbie?” Tsukishima sounded very put out; Akaashi could feel the offended face he was pulling. He smirked to himself—needling Tsukishima was too much fun. He could understand how Kuroo sometimes accidentally overdid it.

Bokuto cheered (quietly), reaching out to fist bump Kuroo. “Hell yeah! Tonight, then? After curfew.”

“When has it ever been before curfew? And don’t worry about how to get out, I think I’ve nailed another escape route for each of us,” Kuroo said.

Of course he would have been concocting plans while behaving like a total model student. Akaashi felt a whisper of guilt at disobeying Takeda again, because he was one of the nicer teachers.

“Guess that means it's time to go to the cafeteria,” Kuroo said, pulling Akaashi up and kissing the back of his hand with a flourish.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Bokuro narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, head slanted to the side.

Without hesitation, Kuroo stepped forward, fisting Bokuto’s shirt and yanking him into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Bokuto grunted in surprise, his hands flying up to grip Kuroo’s wrists; the kiss was deliberately forceful and lewd. Akaashi felt his lips part as he watched, suddenly finding it very hard to swallow. He could see the glint of Bokuto’s piercing as Kuroo’s tongue flickered over it.

Akaashi felt like his face was on fire. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, hearing Tsukishima do the same behind him.

Kuroo pulled away from the kiss just as quickly as he’d initiated it, leaving Bokuto looking as though he’d been concussed. “Alright, appearances, appearances.” He scooped his baseball cap off the floor, jamming it on backward so his hair poked out the top like a shark fin. “You ready to go, guys?”

“What the fuck,” Bokuto mumbled.

Tsukishima tapped Bokuto on the forehead as he passed. He probably used a bit of his ice powers because Bokuto jumped, his ear tufts bristling. “Pull yourself together,” Tsukishima said, smirking down at him.

“If you’re going to antagonise Daishou and the others, avoid Sugawara-san,” Akaashi reminded his boyfriends as he picked up Kuroo’s chair, pushing it back under the desk. One could never tell if the norn angel would choose to be benevolent or ruthless.

“And don’t go overboard with the being ‘all good’,” Tsukishima added.

They began making their way to the cafeteria, Bokuto having finally composed himself. “We could always, like, serenade them or something?” he said to Kuroo, jerking his chin toward the two behind them. “That’s pretty normal for us, right?”

“Unfortunately,” muttered Tsukishima, at the same time as Kuroo went, “Ooh, you always have the best ideas, Bo.”

Bokuto pointed at himself with his thumb. “That’s me. Wise as an owl. ‘Cause I _am_ an owl.”

They reached the cafeteria: a wide, windowed room with high ceilings, filled with tables and chairs of varying sizes. It was already busy with students having their dinner, chattering noisily. Tables were filled with the usual set menu food, but there were very obvious variations for those with other dietary needs or wants. In the far corner, Akaashi saw two of his fellow second-years, Tanaka and Nishinoya, attempting to instigate a food fight while the nearby Sawamura looked ready to slap the deep-sea fish monstrosity on his plate on their heads.

Bokuto and Kuroo had been chattering as they led the way to the cafeteria, but now they were inside, they had fallen into a thoughtful silence. Akaashi cast a concerned glance up at Tsukishima, who was looking back at him with equal trepidation.

“Not too happy, not too happy,” Bokuto mumbled, rubbing his chin. Akaashi braced himself for his boyfriend to start belting out some punk rock, which would certainly bring Sawamura’s ire down on them.

Instead, Kuroo began to mournfully hum a funeral march.

* * *

The waning moon was halfway to its apex in the sky when Tsukishima reached them at the edge of the forest. Tiny ice crystals were sparkling around his fingers; he’d been conjuring them to amuse himself as he walked.

“Hey.” Akaashi gave him a small wave. Bokuto, who was rapidly pacing and looking from side to side with bird-like quickness, didn’t add to the greeting.

Tsukishima nodded back, the ice crystals giving the illusion his horns were shimmering in the moonlight. “Hi.” 

Bokuto darted forward to seize something on the ground. It wriggled as he popped it into his mouth.

Akaashi wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t you eat enough at dinnertime?”

“Count it as desse—Tsukki! You took aaages.”

“Kuroo-san isn’t here yet,” Tsukishima pointed out, pushing Bokuto away when he tried to kiss him. “Stop it, you got mouse breath.”

“He was held up?” Akaashi asked.

Tsukishima rubbed his thumb over his fingertips absently; ice crystals curled out into the air. “He helped me sneak out by distracting whoever was patrolling the first floor. I don’t really know what he was thinking of, but looks like it’s taking him some time.”

Akaashi let the frost drift into his face, a cold kiss on his skin. As he spoke, he could taste it cool on his tongue. “You’re sure of the way to the waterfall, correct?” he asked Bokuto, who was the only one of them who’d been there before.

“Of course,” said Bokuto confidently. 

They waited for about ten more minutes. Bokuto tried catching more mice, which Akaashi knocked out of his hands—”you’ll get a stomachache”—meanwhile, Tsukishima shed his jacket and top and wedged them into the lower branches of a tree.

“Oh, _there’s_ Tetsu!” Bokuto swung himself upright from where he’d been hanging upside down on a tree bough.

Akaashi turned in time to see a dark figure leaping over the school wall. Once it was over the other side, a dim orange glow flickered to life beside it, sliding over the ground as the figure came toward them.

Kuroo was puffing out tiny flames as he approached, each forming vague shapes before dissipating. When he finally stopped before them he blew out another thin stream of fire, shaping it into the approximation of a dick. “Evening, friends.”

Tsukishima pulled a disgusted face. The air around them dropped by a few degrees and the fire-dick vanished into black smoke.

It never failed to amaze Akaashi how Kuroo could be simultaneously the smoothest and one of the crudest people he knew. The fire salamander proceeded to prove the smooth part of his nature by breathing out more fire into the shape of a heart and blowing it over to Tsukishima like a smoke ring. Before it got halfway to the jötunn, though, it straight up _became_ a smoke ring.

“What took you so long?” Tsukishima asked, waving the remnants of the extinguished flame away from his face.

Kuroo grinned, unaffected by the refusal of his ‘affections’. “Oikawa saw me after I’d distracted Konoha on Tsukki’s floor; started bugging me about if I knew where Hanamaki was. As if I’d know where that strawberry-head could be—oh, no offense, Tsukki.”

“I’m offended that you implied I’d _be_ offended in the first place.”

“Exactly! Anyway, he held me up for a while...started talking about the match…” Kuroo’s grin lost most of its humour; Akaashi felt similarly sour at the reminder. “Woulda defenestrated him if Iwaizumi hadn’t shown up.”

“Hey, _we’re_ your boyfriends!”

“It means to throw someone out a window, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said.

“Oh.”

“So, yeah. Took me a bit to get away from them, then lay low in my room until I could be sure everyone had settled down. Sorry I’m late.”

Akaashi shrugged, trying to push away the irritation itching his skin from the mention of the match. If he hadn’t set the ball _that_ way... “You’re here now. Let’s get going?”

“Yes, let’s,” Tsukishima agreed, setting off without waiting for them. Bokuto scrambled to catch up with his long strides, while Kuroo slung his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders and they followed behind together.

Kuroo started sliding his fingers through the willow leaves. Akaashi couldn’t quite feel the contact on the leaves themselves, but he could feel how they shifted the roots of his hair. It was a comforting touch, bringing a small smile to his face. Another one of Kuroo’s more charming points.

“I’ve never asked, but how do you cut your hair? With all the tree in the way?”

Akaashi self-consciously touched his hair, fingers brushing against Kuroo’s. “Carefully. The leaves don’t grow too long anyway; they fall off by themselves in winter.”

Kuroo hummed thoughtfully, then went on to ruffle Akaashi’s hair like he was a kid. He clucked his tongue in annoyance, pushing the offending hand away. “Stop it.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo said with a smirk, and dipped his head to press a firm kiss to Akaashi’s lips. Okay, for that, Akaashi could forgive him.

When he faced forward again, he saw Bokuto was glancing back at them—more specifically, at Kuroo—his eyes bright and curious. Akaashi frowned in concern. “Is something wrong, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “Defenestrate me tomorrow, Tetsu.”

* * *

It took them about an hour of walking (and comfortable bickering) to reach their goal, during which Bokuto had to fly up a few times to use his superior eyesight and hearing to direct their course. He’d never flown far though, because, as he said, he was afraid he’d lose them. Akaashi knew him well enough to understand he was being clingy, because Bokuto hardly ever lost his way.

The hour was also peppered with the occasional stomping of errant spirits and small fry monsters. As a result, Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s fists were a bit gory by the time they began to hear the sound of falling water. Tsukishima had grown to his eight-foot jötunn height and his torso was broader with ridges of ice, but he was still spotless.

Following Bokuto’s guidance, they trekked through the forest until the treeline began to thin, the sound of crashing water loud in the air. Here they came to a halt, allowing Akaashi to extend his rootsense to check for any tsuchigumo nearby. He planted his bare feet in the earth, curling his toes into the dirt, and closed his eyes. On his next exhale, he sent out thin tendrils of roots to wind around the existing systems in the forest floor, threading and reaching. 

This technique worked quickly and used little effort—some called it a dryad’s innate sixth sense. However, it had its limitations, such as his inability to move while using it, the fact it couldn’t stretch more than fifty metres, and he also couldn’t send the roots anywhere where willow tree roots couldn’t grow.

That drawback was evident when he was stopped by a long, slender expanse: a river. Extending his roots parallel to that led to a rocky cliff-face where the waterfall presumably was. There was an odd pressure somewhere above, which made Akaashi pause for a moment, then he felt a prickling on the edge of his senses.

He directed his roots to the right, all his awareness honed in on that prickling. It was an uncomfortable, _inverse_ sort of sensation that only underworld beings evoked. Even as his roots hit a rounded, rocky space they couldn’t penetrate, he knew his hunch was right, and was only proved further correct when something large and heavy and decidedly unnatural scuttled over his roots.

Akaashi pulled back with a mental shudder, his consciousness racing back to his motionless body by the trees. He opened his eyes slowly, reaching up to brush the leaves out of his eyes as the last of his roots returned to him. The bark that had spread over his legs rubbed against his clothing.

Tsukishima, Bokuto, and Kuroo were all watching him with wide, attentive eyes. Had they really stood there in silence that whole time? The notion was a bit embarrassing.

“The tsuchigumo are in the cave near the waterfall,” Akaashi confirmed. “I couldn’t reach inside, but I felt them. I assume they recently clustered there, as Ouno-sensei said, and are probably a small group if they haven’t tried pushing their territory further outside.”

“You’re incredible, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said frankly. Tsukishima and Kuroo nodded their assent.

The compliment brought a rush of warmth to Akaashi’s chest. “Remember to watch for their webs,” he said briskly. “There might be some outside the cave.”

The colour-shifting tsuchigumo silk would be hard to see outside and near impossible in the darkness of the cave. The four of them wouldn’t be rushing in there like idiots, though—Akaashi had made sure to drive that point home in their discussion in Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s room before curfew had forced them back to their separate floors. No, they were going to draw them out.

They advanced through the last thicket of trees as quietly as possible—which was easy for Akaashi and more difficult for Bokuto, whose taloned feet seemed determined to crunch into every dead leaf they passed over. Nevertheless they came to the riverside unscathed, although Akaashi could feel eyes on them as they ventured into the open.

The trail he had sensed out led away from the mist-dampened air by the falls, curving around a crag that protected the cave mouth from the elements. Bokuto led the way with his sharp eyesight, but neither he nor them spotted any tsuchigumo webs in the rocky crevices. The cave mouth soon yawned black and hungry before them, devoid of movement within the darkness... but that same prickly feeling was back. The tsuchigumo were there, waiting for easy prey to stumble past their new home.

Bokuto bounced on the balls of his feet, wings half-spread. He tilted his head back at them, yellow eyes shining. “Ready when you are.”

Kuroo cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

He walked a few paces ahead of them. Akaashi heard him inhale, tail lighting up like fire coiling through the grass, and then actual flame streamed from his mouth into the cave.

Akaashi had a split second to see the flat white shine of skulls in the sudden light before the air filled with screeching. Tsuchigumo hurtled out of the cave with their bodies on fire, their eight legs scrambling madly over the gravelly ground. 

Bokuto had sprung into the air when Kuroo let loose his fire; now he swooped down, seizing a burning demon in his taloned feet and dashing it against the rocks with such force Akaashi could hear its skull crack. Bokuto’s trademark was _power_ ; with his owlbeast’s strength, he was probably the only one of them who could straight up cave in a tsuchigumo’s skull.

“It’s go time!” Kuroo whooped, seizing another flaming tsuchigumo and doing _something_ with his clawed hands. The demon was limp and lifeless on the ground before Akaashi could blink.

Then he had no more time to simply observe, because the unscathed tsuchigumo were surging out, about twenty in all, the jaws of their human skull heads clattering as they scuttled over dirt and grass and even each other.

Akaashi called his willow-strength to him, warping and extending his arms into branches, sweeping them forward to knock back the wave of tsuchigumo before they could release their thick webbing. Some nimble ones leapt onto his limbs and continued scampering toward him, but Tsukishima knocked them off with spikes of ice before they could get far.

They all quickly slid into a rhythm, moving with and around each other like oiled gears. From volleyball to fighting, they worked well together. Each of them was familiar with the other’s style: Bokuto’s sharp dives from above, Kuroo’s propensity for letting his fire loose with little warning. Tsukishima always started off by hanging back but once he got into it he’d get right up in front of you without warning. And as always, Akaashi had placed himself somewhere in the centre to better assess the field.

A particularly nimble tsuchigumo sprang toward him, leaping over his branches erratically. Akaashi clenched his jaw in frustration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bokuto hovering.

“Bokuto-san!” He whipped out a limber branch to coil under the demon’s bony jaw, rotated for momentum, then flung it upward with all his strength. “Yours!” 

The demon spun into the sky, legs streaming behind it like jellyfish tendrils. It arced toward Bokuto almost lazily, seeming to hang at its apex, skull gleaming round and white in the moonlight.

“Gotcha!” 

Akaashi saw the flash of a savage grin and then Bokuto _smashed_ his hand down, slamming the demon right into the rocky outcrop. It hit the ground with a muffled boom, dust and dirt exploding up from the impact.

“Iwaizumi never coulda done that!” Bokuto whooped. “Your tosses are seriously the best!” Akaashi felt himself smile widely, the enthusiasm infectious.

Jagged ice erupted from Tsukishima’s palm, colliding with a tsuchigumo about to leap onto Kuroo’s back. It tumbled over and immediately scrambled upright, skull chattering ferociously. “Ugh,” the jötunn said disgustedly.

He’d been hitting the spider demons just fine, but as far as Akaashi was aware, he hadn’t managed to kill any. It wasn’t to do with his aim...was the ice too blunt? No, they’d discussed with Tsukishima what to do. His height could be a factor in his lack of success—the tsuchigumo were less than half his size. 

Akaashi dodged a jet of webbing as he pondered, tapering a branch to a fine point and driving it into the base of his assailant’s skull. His aim was true: he felt a brief resistance before he pierced right through its spinal cord, sending the skull rolling.

Tsukishima’s next attack only knocked the tsuchigumo onto its side despite hitting its skull dead-on. “What the _hell_ ,” he bit out, narrowing his pale golden eyes.

It didn’t make sense. Being a frost giant, Tsukishima was physically stronger than this—oh, that was it. The way he was trying to shape his ice looked similar to how Akaashi wielded his branches.

“Stop that. I’ve got your back, so do what feels right to you,” he told him.

“I—what?”

“Give them a punch!” Kuroo yelled, fire billowing from his mouth. 

“ _What_?”

“Or ice ‘em up, shortcake!”

“Don’t call me that!” Tsukishima snapped. A glacial wave gushed out of his hand to form into a short pillar, freezing a tsuchigumo into its centre. He dug his fingers into the skull's eye sockets like it was a bowling ball, ice racing down his arm with a crackle to freeze the demon’s head from inside out. Once it was encased in the stuff, he drew back and swung with an ice-covered fist.

Well. It seemed Akaashi had been wrong about only Bokuto being able to shatter a tsuchigumo skull.

One more head went rolling, another got deep-frozen and smashed into pieces. They continued fighting, the three on the coming closer together until their backs were almost touching. Akaashi thought he heard a clanging screech from somewhere in the distance, but that was probably due to the ringing in his ears from their fight.

“Yarrghh!” Bokuto yelled above them, cartwheeling through the air in the direction of the cave. A tsuchigumo had managed to hit him with its webbing—the shiny substance was plastered on his wing, splaying it out awkwardly.

“I got ya!” Kuroo kicked a tsuchigumo into the wall and bounded after Bokuto, spitting fire at the cluster of demons rearing up to the falling owlbeast. He caught him neatly and plopped him onto his feet, turning to decimate the tsuchigumo.

“Thanks, man!” Bokuto exclaimed adoringly, clawing at the thick, gummy webbing on his wing. Akaashi saw he was able to scrape off the worst of it thanks to his talons, but being sticky, it just clung to his arms instead. “Eeeww.” 

Then Akaashi had to divert his attention, because the few remaining spider demons had gathered together beside the cave mouth. The five of them rushed forward as one. Strength in numbers?

He tensed up, about to change his flesh to willow once more, when he noticed a disturbance at the edge of the swarm. The tsuchigumo were...flying? No, wait, they weren’t—they had been flung up into the air by something about the size of a volleyball, barreling forward on the ground right toward them.

“Look out!” Akaashi exclaimed, pointing.

“Move!” shouted Kuroo, and they all dove to the side.

All except Bokuto.

The owlbeast was frozen in place, his eyes darting left and right in panic. All his feathers ruffled in distress. The last tsuchigumo corkscrewed somewhere into the darkness and then there was nothing left between the blur on the ground and Bokuto. It was too late.

Complete, intense focus replaced the alarm on Bokuto’s face. His chest puffed up—

_Are you kidding me._

—to take the blur head-on. 

It whalloped into him with an audible thud, sending him flying backward like a cannonball.

“ _AAAAAAAAHHhhhhhh…._ ” Bokuto screamed as he disappeared into the trees. There were several loud cracks of breaking branches and one tree erupted into furious squawks as a flock of birds was displaced.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi shouted uselessly, panic bolting through him. He should’ve been more alert. 

“Holy shit,” Kuroo said, emerging from the bush he’d leapt into. There were twigs stuck in his mess of hair. “Did any of you see what that was?”

“ _No_ idea,” said Tsukishima.

“Keiji. Keiji!” Kuroo snapped his thumb next to Akaashi’s ear, startling him out of the worry closing down around his head. By the keen look in Kuroo’s eyes, he knew exactly what Akaashi was thinking. “Come on, let’s follow him.”

Leaving the remnants of the tsuchigumo behind, they plunged into the shadowed forest. Even though Kuroo had pulled him along initially, Akaashi overtook him as they ran, following the shrieking they could still hear in the distance. It wasn’t hard to follow the sound of Bokuto’s wailing—which was growing louder again.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi called, just as Bokuto burst back out of the foliage above them, his hands locked around something. It was clearly yanking him around, spinning him through the air like a top. Why wasn’t he just letting _go_? 

“I’m fiiiiii _iiiiinneeee_!” Bokuto screamed, his wings trailing uselessly behind him. The thing in his palms again wrenched in another direction, taking him shooting off to the left. “ _YEEAAAAaarrrghhh…_ ”

They watched him disappear again into the trees, shrieking.

“Fuck,” Tsukishima said resignedly. “Who knows what demons he’s going to wake up?”

Another distant scream.

Kuroo started running after where Bokuto had vanished. “Forget about waking up any demons, he’ll wake up Daichi!”

**iii. _and there ain't nothing you can do_**

Bokuto’s throat was raw from screaming, but he couldn’t stop. Every which way he was yanked sent his stomach hurtling to his throat and then hurtling there again and _again—wasn’t it already there?! How many throats do I have?!_

The only way to relieve the pressure was to yell so yell he did, grating his own eardrums as he shot up and plummeted down, his fingers refusing to let go of the creature. He hadn’t got a good look at it before it had slammed him sky-high; if he’d been a human it would’ve blasted through his chest. All he knew was that it was small, but _incredibly_ strong.

He’d instinctively gone to grab it when it hit, hands locking around fur. _Hind legs,_ Bokuto had barely time to think, before it screeched at the top of its lungs and zoomed away from him. Except he’d been still holding on, so his body zoomed with it.

The beast pivoted sharply in the air, sending him whipping around with the force of his inertia. His legs smacked into a tree, talons dragging against into the bark, then they were off again in the opposite direction. “ _STOP FLYING_ ,” Bokuto yowled, but it just cried out again and thrashed its feathered wings.

Bokuto couldn’t even open his own wings properly, leaving him with nothing to slow their trajectory. “ _STOOOPPPP_ ,” he yelled again, spitting out leaves.

A booming chime rang through his head, reeking of confusion and refusal.

“Bokuto-san!” he heard from below.

He couldn’t even look down, too focused on not letting go. “I’m fine!” he tried to insist, but the creature swivelled again and his reassurances came out as a garbled scream. They were off again, crashing into pines and cedars and gods knew what else, broken sticks scratching up his face.

The thing in his arms was batshit insane, but Bokuto knew he hadn’t imagined that sound—and that feeling—that had reverberated through his skull. But there was too much adrenaline pounding through his veins and he couldn’t come up with anything soothing to say (scream) other than variations of “ _stop!_ ”, “ _chill out_!”, and “ _fuuuuuuuuuuuuck_!”

That last one burst out of him when a huge branch loomed out right across their path and Bokuto realised the creature showed no signs of slowing down.

“ _OOOF_!” 

All the breath was knocked out from his lungs as his body curled around the bough, but even though his mind had temporarily whited out his hands were still stubbornly hanging onto the monster. It struggled mightily, but the weight of Bokuto’s body trapped behind the thick branch stopped it from racing away. It let out a harsh cry and faltered.

Bokuto leapt on the opportunity. ‘Leapt’ being figurative—once he felt the monster flounder he gave his wings a clumsy flap, using the momentum to throw his arms forward and clap its wings against its body. “Gotcha!” he shouted gleefully.

It cawed, trying to stab a curved yellow beak into his hands. As it turned its head he saw the molten metal glow of orange eyes. It kicked at his face with feline hind paws, a cordlike tail he hadn’t noticed before whipping his face. 

_Holy shit, I know what you are!_

But because the creature couldn’t fly, there was nothing keeping them braced against the tree branch. A chime of alarm rang in his mind as they both tipped backward; Bokuto was on the verge of another wild scream when his wings wrapped around his shoulders, reminding him that oh yeah, _he_ could fucking fly!

He twisted around in midair, flaring his wings out before they hit the forest floor. He landed hard on his knees with the squalling bundle clutched to his chest. Despite having held it tight around the legs earlier, Bokuto’s sharp, curved fingernails hadn’t broken the skin. There had been an underlying resistance like a sheet of metal.

“A griffin,” he gasped. “You’re a _griffin_.”

A baby one, at that. It uttered a shriek that would put banshees to shame, the sharp little eagle talons of its forefeet scrabbling at the ground. If that had been his flesh he’d be suffering from some nasty scratches.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” he urged, now not letting go for fear it would ravage his face. Its beak dug painfully into the meat of his thumb. How did one calm down a terrified baby griffin? The ringing was deafening, battering him with a hysterical storm of emotions.

_where_

Chimes assaulted in his mind. _Overwhelmed_ , it was overwhelmed—so many unfamiliar images and smells all jangling together into a cacophony.

_lost_

When Bokuto was young, he’d sometimes have vivid nightmares. The only thing that could calm him down was one of his parents wrapping their wings around him, just close enough for him to feel the brush of their feathers on his back. It didn’t matter that he could see clearly in the dark anyway—what mattered was that he felt protected.

So Bokuto swathed his wings around them, bringing darkness close and warm. _Safe_ , he tried to project into the movement. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

The griffin trembled, still squalling, but the harsh chimes quieted, somewhat, and along with them, the fear. A good sign? Bokuto continued murmuring nonsense words, noting that its tail was now flicking side to side instead of lashing at his nose. He loosened his grip in relief.

Immediately the griffin twisted in his hands, the unexpected convulsion making him reel back slightly, moonlight filtering through the gap in his wings. Hind- and forelegs locked around his arm, furious orange eyes burning up at him—and then it froze.

Bokuto cocked his head to the side in confusion. The griffin mirrored him, now startled and wide-eyed. It wasn’t glaring at him anymore, but staring at the top of his head with what seemed like...bewilderment. Not that Bokuto was an expert on griffin facial expressions, but still.

A breeze swept over them. The griffin chirped, its head swaying a little as it followed the movement of his plumage in the wind. “My feathers?” he murmured. “I’m an owl, though…”

Shit, maybe he shouldn’t be telling that to an unstable baby celestial. It didn’t seem to understand what he was actually saying, however, continuing its curious warbling as it blinked up at him.

“Safe to let go? You won’t rip my face off, right?” he whispered. The celestial had stopped fighting entirely, so he took a deep breath and raised his hands.

It leapt.

Bokuto squawked, his arms flying up to protect his face—but an unexpected weight landed heavily on his head, forcing his neck down. A claw poked into his scalp as the griffin circled once, twice, three times, and then curled up on the very crown of his head.

“I am not your _nest_ ,” he protested, thrilled.

The griffin crooned. Wind chimes tinkled in his mind.

Bokuto gingerly lowered his wings, holding his neck just so as to not displace the creature. It was about the size of the cat and had the weight of a very fat one, and Bokuto thanked whatever god was listening that it was only a baby. A full-grown griffin would have flattened him.

There was a light scratching along his head; the baby was _preening_ him? Bokuto felt a silly grin come to his face. He instinctively reached up, gently touching the griffin’s eagle head. The preening stopped, a beak nipping lightly at his fingertips.

How had it even gotten here? Griffins lived in the celestial realm. He had no idea how a baby would’ve managed to slip through.

“Bo!”

He turned his head carefully, still kneeling on the ground. “Guys!” he whisper-shouted back, seeing his three boyfriends scramble out of the shadows. Akaashi led the way, Kuroo close behind with concern etched on his face. Tsukishima, back to his regular height, took up the rear. As soon as he saw Bokuto in one piece he bent double and braced his hands against his knees, panting. 

Kuroo started forward. “Bo, are you oka—”

“Look!” Bokuto hissed gleefully, pointing at his griffin-hat.

Akaashi’s jaw dropped; Kuroo almost tripped over his own feet. “What is _that_?!” he demanded.

“A baby griffin, duh!” It clawed his scalp again and he winced.

“I know it’s a griffin!”

“Then why did you ask?”

“How did you get a _griffin_?”

“It was the thing that almost took me out!” He put up both hands to steady the celestial as it teetered. “Poor thing was going crazy. I got it to calm down though; I think it likes my feathers!”

“No way.” Kuroo inched forward in wonder, but Akaashi marched right by him without hesitation and crouched down in front of Bokuto, cupping his face. The griffin chirped, but Akaashi ignored it.

“You’re okay?” he asked quietly, looking into Bokuto’s eyes.

Bokuto felt his stomach flip-flop. Akaashi’s eyes were such a gorgeous colour, always shifting from grey to blue to dark green. The only thing stopping his blush overwhelming him was the relief and guilt he saw in Akaashi’s face. He placed a hand on his boyfriend’s wrist.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling reassuringly.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve done something,” Akaashi murmured. His thumb was tracing little circles on Bokuto’s cheekbone.

“It’s nobody’s fault.” Bokuto leaned into the touch, pressing a light kiss to the inside of Akaashi’s wrist. “This chest could take a _minotaur_ , y’know.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but his tension had eased, leaving him smiling softly. It made his eyes sparkle. “You’re hopeless.”

“Oh, definitely,” Bokuto agreed. 

The griffin chittered again; he’d almost forgotten it was there. There were several light pricks on his head—was it smoothing his feathers again?

“Does it think you’re its dad?” Kuroo snorted.

Ooh, was that it? “Does that mean I get to name it?”

“You’re joking, right?” Tsukishima said blankly. He’d finally gotten his breath back. “You’ve got a celestial sitting on your head and you want to _adopt_ it? When its parents find us they’ll think we kidnapped it.”

“That begs the question why it’s here in the first place,” Akaashi said, rising to his feet to get a better look at the creature. “I can’t imagine griffins, of all celestials, going around outside their domain.”

“Maybe someone opened a gate to the celestial realms,” suggested Kuroo. He started shuffling toward Bokuto again in an odd half-crouch.

The griffin had tensed up a bit on his head, so Bokuto popped his hands up once more to pat it gently. “He’s okay! They’re all okay. They’re all my friends...uh, I mean, boyfriends? Does that even make sense to you? Oh! It’s like, they’re all your dads, too! Wait, you’ve got a dad. Uncles, then?”

“Oh my god,” Tsukishima said.

Bokuto pointed at him. “That’s Uncle Tsukki. He likes to act standoffish but all you gotta do is melt him a bit.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is Uncle Akaashi, the awesomest and sexiest tree there ever was.” Akaashi raised an eyebrow. “And here’s Uncle Kuroo, nightlight of our hearts.”

Kuroo was reaching out hesitantly toward his head. “Shit, bro, you’re gonna make me— _ow_!—blush. Yeesh, that hurt.” The griffin had pecked him.

“Don’t do that,” Bokuto scolded his cargo. A chime of shame.

“If its parents come looking for it, they _will_ assume we stole it, then they’ll kill us.” Tsukishima had come beside Kuroo and was frowning down at them. The griffin chimed nervously in Bokuto’s mind, its tail flicking around his head. The tuft of hair at the tip of its tail stuck into his ear without warning and Bokuto recoiled with a startled squeak, uselessly flapping his hands at his ear.

Tsukki snorted, but quickly put his disgruntled front back up. Too late, though, Bokuto had seen the flash of genuine humour in his eyes. It was one of the things he adored most about Tsukki: how incredibly expressive he was, especially so because he tried to hide it under a veneer of disinterest or annoyance. When Bokuto glimpsed that genuine feeling in his eyes, it was like an extra-powerful kick in the gut.

(He saw it when he kissed Tsukishima and the latter scrunched up his face and turned his back, but would send furtive glances his way until Bokuto kissed him again. Or there was that night when he and Kuroo were doing some stupid bonfire dance and Tsukishima had rolled his eyes in exasperation, but kept watching them like they were the only people in the whole world. He sometimes got ridiculously shy around Akaashi, too—despite having actually said _I like you_ to the willow dryad first—becoming all darting eyes and flushed cheeks until Akaashi would get right up in his face in a way he couldn’t avoid.)

So as Tsukishima stared at him and his baby griffin reproachfully, Bokuto looked hard at him, waiting. The griffin trilled atop his head. Bokuto felt its tail curl under his chin.

Tsukki’s eyes softened, just a fraction.

 _There it is!_ “C'mere,” Bokuto urged, standing up slowly and very carefully. The celestial shuffled its wings for balance, buffing his ears.

“So it can get a taste of me?”

“It knows to not do that now. It won’t bite, will ya, buddy?” Bokuto murmured, raising his brows. The griffin peered over his forehead, blinking down at him.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue exasperatedly. Bokuto turned a puppy-dog look on him before he could stop himself.

“You’re being absolutely ridiculous,” Tsukishima said, but for some incredible reason, decided to indulge him.

Bokuto couldn’t see how the celestial on his head was reacting, but he could hear its curiosity tinkling. And he could see Tsukishima’s wariness relax into acceptance—grudging acceptance, but acceptance nonetheless. The griffin shifted its weight on his head, maybe pushing itself up against Tsukki’s fingers.

A series of happy bells echoed in Bokuto’s mind. “It likes you!”

“Sure, okay.”

“Why doesn’t it like me, too?” Kuroo grumbled.

“Because Tsukishima’s cuter than you, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi said matter-of-factly. Kuroo groaned.

“I _know_ that, but _still_.”

“Shut up,” mumbled Tsukishima, focused on the griffin.

“You were right, though.” Akaashi said to him. “Griffins are incredibly protective of their young—if we don’t get it back to where it came from, its parents will be here out for blood.” He sounded like he was quoting a textbook.

Bokuto furrowed his brow, trying to remember his second-year lessons on celestial realm creatures. He couldn’t remember all the details apart from griffins being known as rulers of the sky (because that sounded plain _cool_ ), having strength that exceeded a lion’s several times over, and being able to grow to the size of a draft horse. Being prideful creatures, they also kept to their own domain, jealously guarding it and their families.

“You shouldn’t name it, just in case.” Akaashi took Bokuto’s hands in his. “We need to take care of this.”

‘This’ being his bloodied hands. Suddenly he became aware of the dull throbbing pain in his limbs. He hadn’t noticed it before, too caught up by the adrenaline. Now he looked down and saw blood smeared all over his skin. The rest of his body was aching from being dragged mercilessly through the air by an infant “ruler of the sky”(!).

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice before,” Akaashi said, using his shirt to wipe off the oozing blood as best as he could, extending slender willow twigs to prise off the tsuchigumo web so he didn’t get it on his fingers.

“Nah, it’s— _ow—_ fine.”

Akaashi pulled up a clean section of his shirt hem and tore a strip off with his teeth in one sharp movement. Bokuto’s brain short-circuited. He forgot his aches and bruises all over again.

“That was super hot,” he breathed.

Akaashi didn’t answer that, too focused on wrapping up Bokuto’s left hand. His fingers were slender and careful, probing around the scratches on Bokuto’s wrists, picking off stray bits of web that still clung there. He ran out of makeshift bandage before he could get to the other hand, so again with his mouth, he tore off more fabric from his shirt. Loose threads hung down over the exposed line of his stomach.

“Waitwaitwait,” Bokuto said in a rush. “Hold up, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi, being Akaashi, ignored him until he was done bandaging up the other hand. Then he rocked back on his heels and looked up. “Yes?”

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Bokuto said decisively, and went to do just that.

He’d forgotten the griffin. It scrambled painfully on his head as he leant down, claws scratching his forehead as it clumsily launched off and thumped into Tsukishima’s chest.

“No!” Tsukishima protested, his arms flying up automatically to catch it. “Ow, fuck, stop it!”

Ice swept over his exposed skin, protecting him from the griffin’s sharp claws and talons. It cawed in shock at the sudden cold, clambering out of his arms and up onto his shoulders where it perched victoriously, wings half-open.

Bokuto wheezed. Kuroo burst into raucous laughter, clutching his stomach with the force of it. “Oh my— oh my god— Tsukki—”

“Shut up!” Tsukishima barked, his cheeks flushed dark blue. He stood awkwardly, arms half-raised and shoulders hunched under the weight of the celestial. His glasses were askew on his nose.

Akaashi’s shoulders were shaking. He’d pressed his hand to his mouth to hide his laughter but couldn’t cover up the mirth in his eyes, which made Tsukishima look at him with an expression of abject betrayal. 

"Bokuto-san, make it let go,” Tsukishima said furiously. He was still standing as if paralysed, like he was afraid that even lowering his arms would send the griffin into a frenzy. “You’ve obviously bonded with it or some shit, get it off me!”

It poked its beak into his fluffy blonde hair.

“I’m not actually its dad, I can’t tell it what to do,” Bokuto said with a grin, wrapping a wing around Akaashi, who was still trembling with suppressed laughter. Akaashi and Kuroo were right: how did an incensed jötunn, who was a full head taller than them, manage to look that adorable? 

“But you can hear it, can’t you, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked breathlessly. He had tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Hear it? Ooh, you mean the ringing sounds?”

“So you can hear something? Interesting. It was just a guess.”

“Wait, I can’t hear any ringing. Are you saying it can talk only to Bo?” Kuroo asked, eyes wide.

“Nonono, it doesn’t talk,” Bokuto corrected him. “It sounds like bells! And I can feel whatever it's feeling when I hear them...it was super scared before.”

“Huh. So why can’t we hear anything?”

The griffin nibbled at Tsukishima’s horn. He jumped, batting it away.

Akaashi shrugged. “Perhaps it’s an owlbeast thing? Or maybe you’re the one who’s been adopted, Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo leaned an arm against Bokuto’s shoulder, gazing at Tsukishima with a rakish smirk. The griffin was nudging the jötunn’s hair again as if wondering why it wasn’t made of feathers. “In _that_ case, you sure _you_ can’t hear anything, Tsukki?”

As if to prove his point, Boktuo heard a vexed chime pealed through his mind. 

“Just bird sounds. Are none of you going to do anything?” Tsukishima demanded, head still bent as the griffin shifted across the ice on his shoulders. It didn’t appear bothered by the stuff at all—maybe it made a good handhold. Clawhold?

“I don’t know... I mean, you guys look pretty comfortable like that!” Kuroo said.

“When its parents come, I’ll feed you to it first,” Tsukishima said to him peevishly.

“We could totally take on a griffin!” Bokuto insisted, ignoring the fact a single adult one would be basically three times his size. Kuroo bumped his fist in agreement.

Akaashi sighed. “Don’t even think about it. We have to find wherever it came through before its parents pick up its trail. The gate could still be there. If it’s not, though…”

“We’d have to go to a teacher.” Tsukishima screwed up his face in distaste. “Takeda-sensei would kill us.”

Akaashi rubbed his chin. “I think I might have an idea where it came through. When I was sensing out the tsuchigumo, I felt something strange above the waterfall. I can’t say for certain it’s the gate, but it’s a place to start?”

Gods, he was so fucking smart. “You’re so fucking smart, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto said sincerely.

“I know,” Akaashi said, kissing him on the cheek.

Okay, Bokuto’s brain had imploded so many times today it may as well not exist anymore. 

“I refuse to be stuck with this thing,” Tsukishima said, reaching up to grab the griffin. It tried to peck his fingers, but Tsukishima had thought ahead and covered them in ice. He successfully yanked the griffin off him and dumped it in the grass—

—and immediately, it flew straight back onto his shoulders.

“Seriously?” blustered Tsukki. The griffin chimed happily. Kuroo and Bokuto collapsed into another fit of laughter.

“Just,” _wheeze_ , “accept it, Papashima!”

The temperature dropped by several degrees. Bokuto could see his own breath clouding the air.

“ _Never_ call me that again,” Tsukishima said dangerously.

Akaashi slipped out from under Bokuto’s arm. “Come on, let’s go back,” he said, although his lips were still twitching. He placed a hand on Tsukishima’s elbow even though it must have been freezing; the temperature abruptly returned to normal. “Watch out for tsuchigumo. We never finished killing them.”

Grumbling, Tsukishima let himself be led away, thin sheets of ice cracking under their feet. Kuroo looped his arm through Bokuto’s and they followed, chortling at how the griffin was ruffling its wings as if it wanted to pick Tsukishima up and fly away.

Suddenly Bokuto’s feet slipped out from under him and he shouted in alarm as he fell, violently jerking Kuroo down with him. They crashed in a tangle of limbs on the thick layer of ice that had slid over the dirt, radiating out from where Tsukishima had just stepped.

Tsukishima didn’t show any sign he’d noticed their fall, but Bokuto heard his hum of self-satisfaction as he and Akaashi walked further into the shadows—he was probably grinning in that infuriatingly, wonderfully smug way he had. The griffin swayed on his shoulders, turning back to blink at Bokuto with bright orange eyes.

Bokuto groaned, rubbing his ass. He’d definitely bruised his tailbone.

Tsukki was freakin’ _devious_.

**iv. _but feel the way i feel too_**

The woods were actually very quiet at night. Without Bokuto and Kuroo temporarily out of commission, Tsukishima might never have realised it.

Of course, it helped that they weren’t fighting ghouls or being stalked by nightcrawlers (at the moment). He could hear the faint shrilling of insects in the undergrowth, distant hooting of actual owls, the _frsshhh_ of trees in the wind. 

The griffin warbled softly in his ear, somehow not discouraged at all by the ice protecting his bare skin. Tsukishima had grudgingly accepted its presence for now, but as soon as they found the gate he was going to pitch it right through. Thank gods Bokuto hadn’t actually named it.

His feet crunched over the forest detritus; Akaashi’s footsteps whispered over the leaves, hardly making a sound. How he did it, Tsukishima had no idea—probably some sort of dryad magic.

“How long do you think they’ll take to catch up?” Akaashi mused quietly.

“Depends on if Bokuto-san remembers he can fly them off the ice.” Tsukishima was betting it wouldn’t be the first or even second solution Bokuto would think of.

“If you hadn’t tripped them up, I might have myself. They were getting a little noisy.”

Tsukishima side-eyed him, remembering how Akaashi had also laughed at him struggling with the griffin. Looking at the little glint in his eyes, though, he didn't disbelieve him.

Tsukishima was privately glad to see Akaashi’s earlier anxiety had receded. Whenever Akaashi, who was typically their level-headed—and often sardonic—mediator, became panicked, it made something in Tsukishima’s gut twist uncomfortably. It wasn’t that he was rejecting the idea of Akaashi becoming anxious, it was that it happened so rarely that it unnerved him each time. It made him want to do _something_ to get rid of that look, but he never knew _what_ to do, so he ended up doing nothing, and then kicking himself about it later.

The griffin changed positions on his shoulders, picking its way over so it peered down at Akaashi. Tsukishima glared at it out of the corner of his eye. "You better not maul anybody else," he warned it, then added as an afterthought, "except Kuroo-san."

The griffin trilled again. Tsukishima didn't hear any of the bells Bokuto had been talking about, which made him more suspicious.

"It's just curious, I think." Akaashi’s arm rippled into wood as he raised it up, forming a short perch. The griffin tested it out with one eagle foreleg, but even though the branch proved it could hold, it took its leg back, tail swishing against Tsukishima's ear. Akaashi frowned.

Tsukishima smirked despite himself. "Maybe I really am that cute," he said, sarcastically, because Akaashi was much better looking than Tsukishima could ever hope to be.

But Akaashi nodded in unironic agreement. "Yes, it could be that." He squinted at the griffin, absently playing with a willow leaf in his hair. "I wonder if it was _uruz_ or _raidho_."

Tsukishima blinked. Like Bokuto, Akaashi could be carried away by whatever train of thought he was having and then casually throw out something plucked out from the middle of that train. “For...the gateway?” _Uruz_ and _raidho_ were runes used for magic circles.

“Mm hm.”

“Does it matter? I mean, it’s here, anyway.” He shrugged the shoulder the griffin was leaning its front legs on, sending it bobbing into the air.

"It would help if we have to reopen the gate. Doesn't hurt to think about it." Akaashi finally looked away from the griffin, tipping his head back to gaze above them. Glimpses of sky and stars were visible through the rustling leaves.

The faint moonlight outlined his features, shining pale on his leaves-hair but dipping his eyes and the hollows of his cheeks into shadows. It made him look like a different being altogether, one strange and almost unnaturally beautiful. Yet, it was the furthest thing from unsettling Tsukishima could think of.

Akaashi must have felt his stare, because he lowered his head, half-lidding his eyes in that sly expression and—dear fuck. Tsukishima whipped his head away resolutely, ignoring the flapping of the griffin as it rebalanced itself. 

Akaashi was just as much his boyfriend as the other two, but in _this_ regard, Tsukishima still felt hesitant around him. It was easier to bypass that hesitancy with Kuroo and Bokuto, who threw their arms around his waist with abandon and tossed clumsy kisses his way—sometimes missing his mouth and landing under his ear—but every move Akaashi made was thoughtful. It made each of his touches, each of his looks, carry so much more _weight_.

Just as Tsukishima thought he knew how to handle himself around Akaashi, his boyfriend could do the most mundane thing such as _looking at the sky_ and completely upend his day.

"Something wrong, Tsukishima-kun?" Akaashi asked lightly. Too lightly.

He scowled. "No."

"Would you excuse us for a minute?"

That got Tsukishima to look at him in confusion, until he realised Akaashi was talking to the griffin, again holding out his makeshift perch.

"Good luck getting that thing off me," he said offhandedly, just as the griffin casually picked its way off his shoulders onto Akaashi.

The single stark thought of _traitor!_ rang through his skull. 

“You were saying?” Akaashi deposited the griffin by their feet; they had stopped walking so he could do so. The celestial started scratching in the dirt for worms.

“Shut up,” he said automatically. Akaashi snorted.

“You wish.”

The rustling of leaves filled the air between them. Tsukishima felt the ground tremble the tiniest bit.

“Why did you put it down? It’ll run away,” he said, avidly watching the celestial scratch in the dirt.

“I don’t think it would.”

The griffin had found a worm and was wresting it out of the ground. It resembled Bokuto more than he’d initially thought.

“Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are really taking their time.”

“I suppose so.” Akaashi’s voice was coming up from a little higher. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if he was imagining his breath against his face.

The griffin grabbed at the bottom of the worm in its talon, holding it in place while it stretched it out. Some sort of nocturnal animal scurried up a tree. The shadows had darkened even though there were no clouds across the moon, and Tsukishima continued to focus on everything other than Akaashi.

“Do you think they have worms in the celestial realm?”

The griffin snapped up the rest of its snack.

The smell of petrichor and tree bark wound into his lungs. “Tsukishima,” Akaashi said.

Tsukishima automatically responded to that; Akaashi had said his name so lowly, enunciated it so intentionally, that he simply couldn’t help it. He realised with a small shock Akaashi had made himself just tall enough that Tsukishima had to tip his head up slightly to meet his eyes. And it was that fact—the way Akaashi was looking _down_ on him—that made Tsukishima’s mouth go completely dry.

“Um,” he said intelligently.

There was no stopping or hiding the blush he knew was sweeping across his face, his ears, even his damn neck. There was nowhere to look but at Akaashi. Ugh, he liked to pretend to be so impassive, didn’t he? But the way his brain worked was so much more crafty than he made it out to be. It made Tsukishima annoyed, then turned on, then annoyed because he was turned on.

 _What the fuck_ , he thought, pained. 

His consternation must have shown, because Akaashi’s faint grin held a victorious curl to it as he leaned down (oh god, he leaned _down_ ). His hand, slender and smooth, fit under Tsukishima's chin and tilted it upwards at a careful angle to slot their mouths together.

Akaashi didn't kiss like Bokuto, all open enthusiasm, or Kuroo, intense and determined as if to make a point. He kissed deliberately, lips pushing and parting and then waiting for reciprocation; patiently, as if waiting for Tsukishima to catch up just to leave him in the dust again. It was infuriating, how Tsukishima couldn't help but chase him.

He was distantly aware his hands had come around Akaashi’s slender waist, even though the roots that made the dryad taller kept him firmly in one place. Akaashi's other hand had tightened on his shoulder. Tsukishima capitulated to it, trying to sort out his mess of emotions and express an embarrassed yet stubborn desire to be there for him, for all of them—because he sure as hell couldn't say it out loud. He could only kiss Akaashi back and hope that was enough.

Willow leaves tickled his face. He was dizzy on the smell and touch of the earth.

“ _...sssshhhhhiiii…”_

Tsukishima stiffened at the foreign sound; Akaashi did likewise. He’d heard it too, then.

“ _...lee shiiiiiii…”_

Oh, for fucks sake, he knew what it was.

“ _Holy shiiiiiiiit_ ,” Bokuto said.

 _Ugh_ , thought Tsukishima, as he and Akaashi were forced to break apart. “Ugh,” Akaashi muttered against his lips.

“No, no, don’t stop on account of us,” Kuroo drawled.

The two of them were standing a little ways off to their side, openly observing them without shame. Bokuto was half-hiding behind Kuroo’s shoulder with his hands over his face, peeking through the wide V’s of his parted fingers. Kuroo’s arms were folded and he was rolling his bottom lip between his teeth—he wasn’t even pretending to be coy about watching them. There was a hungry edge to his grin that made it obvious he’d been drinking in the sight. Tsukishima wanted to ice him in the face but also run far away at the same time.

“Holy shit,” Bokuto said again, delightedly. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible ones!”

“We were taking responsibility,” Akaashi said. Tsukishima sputtered.

The griffin cawed from the ground, ambling over to Bokuto. Kuroo tried to reach out toward it, but it pecked at his fingers again, making Tsukishima snicker. Sweet retribution.

Kuroo stuck his injured finger in his mouth, narrowing his eyes at him. The snicker died in Tsukishima’s throat. 

“Sawa! They ditched you?” Bokuto dove on the griffin, scooping it up in his arms like a baby. It struggled mightily, scratching at his bandaged arms, so he plopped it on his head. “Guys, how could you? It could’ve gotten lost!”

“We didn’t ditch it, we—you _named_ it?”

To his credit, Bokuto at least seemed a little chagrined. “Only in my head! I didn’t mean to actually say anything! Pretend it didn’t happen!”

“You are so attached,” Tsukishima said, amping up his disapproval. Anything to take his mind off the way Kuroo was looking at him. “Didn’t Akaashi-san ask you not to name it?”

“I could count on one hand the number of times Bokuto-san has actually listened to me.” Akaashi pressed his lips together as he lowered himself back to the ground, roots creeping back into skin. “Why ‘Sawa’?”

“It sounded cute! It’s cute, right?” Bokuto looked at Kuroo for support.

At least it made Kuroo take his eyes off Tsukishima. "Fuck yeah it is."

"There you go!"

"Just...if we do run into any other griffins, don’t call it anything," Akaashi said as they began walking again.

"Are you guys in a position to lecture us?" Kuroo teased. He brushed his tail against Tsukishima's waist, leaving a flush of almost uncomfortable heat against his skin. "Dawdling around like that…"

"What if we said we were waiting for you?"

"We wouldn't believe it," Kuroo said to Akaashi confidently, "or maybe Bo would, but Bo'd believe anything you say."

"Being trusting is a good thing!" protested Bokuto. "It's a good quality!"

"Hubris," Kuroo corrected.

Akaashi met Tsukishima's eyes and as one, they let out a long-suffering sigh.

Kuroo and Bokuto kept up their back-and-forth as they walked, Akaashi occasionally interjecting with sarcasm that made them fumble for words and made Tsukishima laugh under his breath. The griffin bobbed on Bokuto's head, occasionally trying to scratch Kuroo if he attempted to pet it. 

Tsukishima was aware he was falling quiet, which caused Kuroo to send him a concerned glance, but it must have been clear what he was thinking about because Kuroo looked away with a smirk. And yeah, staring distractedly at the back of Akaashi's head might have given something away. Tsukishima could still feel the ghost of their kiss tingling his skin; chewing his lip did nothing to erase it.

Even though he found it hard to admit to himself, he had recently begun to wonder if he’d be able to take over when they kissed, making Akaashi breathless and stupid the way he did to him. The problem being, he'd get too breathless and stupid to remember to even try. But one day. One day he'd do it.

Mhm. One day.

Not today, apparently.

* * *

Tsukishima kicked a skull out from under his feet as they emerged from the forest line, giving the tsuchigumo cave mouth a wide berth. He thought he glimpsed a few scuttling forms inside, but no spider demons came out to attack them. Perhaps they had learned the four of them weren’t ignorant travellers; perhaps they were just terrified of the baby griffin.

Kuroo groaned theatrically as the misty wetness from the waterfall swirled around their heads. “When I faint, make sure you catch me, Tsukki.”

“You’re too heavy.”

“Your icicle arms must be more spindly than I thought!”

Tsukishima gave him a wide smile. “These icicle arms could freeze you from the inside out,” he said with insincere cheerfulness.

“That’s kinky.”

“You’re asinine.”

“Their way of flirting is pretty interesting, isn’t it?” Akaashi said to Bokuto. Tsukishima choked.

“It’s pretty hot,” Bokuto replied conversationally. Over his shoulder, he said to Kuroo, “If you actually need to be carried, I’ve got you, bro. Could bench press any one of ya in my sleep.”

That actually wasn’t a lie. Bokuto had managed to even carry Tsukishima bridal-style at one point.

“In the end, a bit of river mist is Kuroo Tetsurou’s downfall?” Akaashi asked drily.

“It’s just so damp. And _cold_. It's lame, okay.”

“What about me, then?” Tsukishima asked, flicking a miniscule ice crystal at his nose.

Kuroo sneezed. “That’s completely different, and you know it.”

“Is it really?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said empathetically. “For starters, you’re really fucking attractive.”

“Compared to mist? I’m so honoured.”

“God, Tsukki! I’m trying over here!”

They reached the base of the waterfall. It was protected by moss-covered rocks and boulders that curved around it like an embrace, containing the crash of water in one deep, circular pool that led out into the river. The cliff was formed out of two tiers of rock shelf, the first level jutting out to form a narrow walkway that slid behind the waterfall and curved out from the other side. Its edges were worn smooth by the water, shining in the moonlight.

“Above there, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto pointed at the waterfall.

Akaashi frowned. “...No,” he said slowly. “Behind it.”

Kuroo made a _blrrp_ sound. He’d probably stuck out his forked tongue. Tsukishima wasn’t sure, because he’d decided to take pity on him—even if he was exaggerating, he had looked quite pathetic—and stand in front to block the worst of the spray. It didn’t really bother him—he wasn’t wearing a shirt that would get damp, anyway.

“No time like the present,” Tsukisima said, stepping forward. Kuroo stuck behind him, nose almost to Tsukishima’s back, lest he lose his shield.

They started to pick their way up to the second level of rock, clambering over slippery vegetation. Tsukishima flattened himself against the cliff as they edged up, unwilling to risk going nearer to the edge even if it meant more room to walk. Bokuto was having no such trouble, his taloned feet finding easy purchase.

The rush of water made it hard to hear, so when Akaashi called for them to stop only Bokuto heard, halting abruptly so the other two bounced into him. Tsukishima grabbed onto Kuroo as he lurched to the side, pulling him back against the rocky wall.

Kuroo’s eyes were wide. “I knew you loved me, Tsukki,” he said, somehow winding a teasing lilt into his relief.

Tsukishima looked at him in disbelief. “I’m _dating_ you.”

“I’m so sorry, guys!” Bokuto exclaimed.

“We’re fine, did Akaashi find something?”

He had found something—an opening in the cliffside, tucked underneath a lip of rock. Water splashed off Tsukishima’s shoulders as he squeezed behind Bokuto into a small, dark cave. The rocky floor glistened wet and black.

Bokuto quickly ventured forward into the darkness, his eyes glowing lamplike yellow. “See anything, Saw—ah, griffy?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. Kuroo, having just followed him in, started wringing out his saturated hair. Despite being dampened, it hadn’t lost its shape at all.

“Did you know this was here?” Tsukishima said to Akaashi, trying to clear the water droplets off his glasses.

“No, but I expected something like it.” Akaashi frowned as he looked around the cave, which was only about ten feet in diameter. “It’s smaller than I was expecting.”

“Nah, there’s an opening here!” Bokuto’s voice echoed out from the back of the cave just as Kuroo coughed, his throat glowing soft red as he called up his fire. His tail turned lava-like once more, filling the circular room with a muted orange light.

“Mhm, that’s better.” He flashed Tsukishima a grin, all self-assured and confident once more, and sauntered over to join Bokuto.

The owlbeast had found a short tunnel in the cave wall that led deeper inside. The passage opened into a deeper cavern, and thanks to Kuroo’s light, Tsukishima immediately saw what made it different from the entrance.

A magic circle formed out of chalk and coloured dirt lay in the centre of the room, runes scrawled at intervals. Parts of it were heavily scuffed and even scorched. Tsukishima recognised the _uruz_ runes Akaashi had suggested, along with some others he didn’t recognise. The circle wasn’t activated—the runes were flat and unshimmering. Extinguished candles were strewn across the floor and a few books lay splayed out near the wall as if knocked there. There was an upturned golden dish with half-burnt herbs scattered around it, along with a stained knife and a matchbox.

“This is likely where the griffin came through,” Akaashi said, crouching to observe the circle. He pointed. “Look here, the secondary runes are _kenaz_. Perfect for a gate to the celestial realm.”

“That’s your home, little guy,” Bokuto told the griffin, which cawed back at him. There was a short silence and he laughed, bright and lively, in response to something Tsukishima couldn’t hear. 

“Do you know how to reopen the gate?” he asked Akaashi and Kuroo. Magic circles were part of the third year curriculum, but he suspected he wouldn’t find any answers with Bokuto.

“Circles aren’t exactly my forte,” Kuroo admitted. “I don’t have enough appropriate ‘innate magic’, or whatever. Keiji’s good at them, though, aren’t you?”

Akaashi smiled to himself, a faint quirk of his lips. “I’m not terrible.”

“Even though you haven’t studied it in class. Typical,” Kuroo said affectionately, going over to pick up one of the fallen books. He raised both eyebrows as he flicked through it. “This is about demon sigils.”

“Then this was someone’s demon summoning gone wrong?” Akaashi theorised, arranging the coloured dust back into its pattern. 

At the other side of the circle, Bokuto had put the griffin on the ground and was playing with it like it was an actual cat. Tsukishima watched him chuckle as he nudged the celestial around, ignoring how it pecked at him. His smile was like sunshine.

“Hey, Tsukishima-kun, stop mooning over Bokuto-san for a moment and hand me that dish, please. With the herbs and the knife.” Akaashi pointed at the upside-down metal bowl. 

“I’m not _mooning_.”

“He’s mooning over me?” Bokuto looked up in interest.

“No.”

“Tsukki was mooning,” confirmed Kuroo. Tsukishima resisted the urge to throw the bowl and its ashy contents at his head.

* * *

The circle was finally complete once more—the candles lit (thanks to Kuroo) and in place, the runes reshaped with the scattered dirt and some chalk remnants they’d found. Akaashi stood in the centre, arranging the herbs in the bowl. “I hope this will be enough,” Tsukishima heard him murmur to himself.

Even though Kuroo and Bokuto had been fooling around with the griffin (Kuroo had several more cuts on his hands now) while the other two prepared the circle, Bokuto had been getting progressively more mopey as Akaashi carefully redrew each rune. Tsukishima just hoped he wouldn’t cling on to the baby griffin when it was time to actually send it back.

“That should be it.” Akaashi picked up one herb bundle, stepping carefully over lines and swirls to the edge of the circle. “Kuroo-san, if you would.”

Kuroo straightened, patting Bokuto on the shoulder, and blew a small flame onto the bundle Akaashi held out to him.

The sudden firelight played shadows over Akaashi’s face as he navigated his way back to the centre and tossed it into the dish. The rest of the herbs caught alight, shining blue and green instead of orange. The runes began to shimmer with the slightest hint of gold.

Akaashi took a deep breath and held out his hand palm-up above the fire. His other held the knife, cleaned of its stained blood. Tsukishima inadvertently clenched his as he watched Akaashi cut across the central line of his palm, pain flickering briefly across his face. As he spoke the words of opening, his blood welled up and spilled over, flowing into the fire.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then—

The runes blazed, and light split down through the air like a tear in curtains.

Sound and movement burst through with it, a rushing, overwhelming force that had Tsukishima holding up his arms to protect his face; the others were doing the same. The candles were sent flying, smacking into the wall. He had the impression of a wild wind blowing, or was it a thousand thundering and whispering voices speaking at once? The words were all coming out as streaks of gold, lancing right through his eyes and into his mind.

And then the flare of sensation died down, returning his breath to him. Tsukishima lowered his hands, seeing the others do the same. They all looked similarly shaken.

The rip in the air had stilled to a column of light that was two handspans wide and stretched all the way up to the ceiling. The bowl of fire lay intact before it, green-blue flames burning low.

Akaashi let out a heavy breath, looking as though he wanted to sag over. He’d been in the epicentre of it but was still standing, somehow. At least he’d stopped his bleeding—Tsukishima saw the bump of tree bark that had grown over the wound.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, sounding winded. Kuroo carefully went over through the circle and wrapped his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, supporting him. The younger boy leaned gratefully against his side. “Could you please bring the griffin here?”

Bokuto obeyed, but once he reached the edge of the circle, he hesitated, looking down at the creature in his hands. It squirmed around, blinking up at him. “Aw, don’t be like that,” he said sadly.

“Bokuto-san, you’ve got to let it go,” Akaashi said, patient even though his eyes were fluttering shut with fatigue.

Bokuto drooped, his feathers going flat. “I know, I know.” He looked over at Tsukishima beseechingly. “Sa—the griffin really likes you, please say goodbye?”

Fuck, were his eyes watering? Tsukishima relented with a sigh, walking around the circle to his boyfriend. He extended a single finger to pat the griffin once on the head. The way it cocked its head and blinked those flashing orange eyes was again oddly reminiscent of the person holding it. 

“Bye,” he said awkwardly.

Bokuto sighed noisily. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

Carrying the griffin, he solemnly approached the gateway. Akaashi and Kuroo moved aside for him. Bokuto held the baby celestial up at eye level, then pressed his forehead against it. He nodded at what only he could hear.

“I’ll miss you,” he said sorrowfully, bending to put it down at the portal’s entrance—and then the gate exploded outward like a door being torn open and an unholy screech ricocheted around the cave.

Tsukishima clapped his hands around his ears, seeing Akaashi and Bokuto stagger back from the centre, the latter losing his hold on the baby griffin. Even though their feet scuffed through the magic circle, the gate didn’t disappear. The screeching grew louder, underlaid by the discordant gonging like gigantic bells being crashed against each other.

And then an enormous copper-gold-lightning presence filled the room, and an eagle’s cry mingled with a lion’s roar.

“Oh, fuck no,” Tsukishima breathed.

The adult griffin emerged fully into the cavern, beak opened in an angry cry. It was massive, all rage and powerful sinewy muscle under a lion’s golden fur and coppery brown and cream feathers. It prowled forward, talons scraping mercilessly against the rock, cutting through the lines of the circle—yet the gate did not close.

Its tail curled threateningly behind it as it swung its head from side to side, likely looking for its baby—but it was Tsukishima who accidentally met its eyes first, and once he looked into them he found he was unable to tear himself away. If Tsukishima had thought the baby griffin’s eyes shone like embers, this adult griffin’s eyes tore through him like flashfire, burning bright and hot as if made out of the earth’s core. He couldn’t move a single muscle as its legs coiled beneath it and then it leapt toward him, each of its wickedly sharp talons poised to tear into his flesh.

“Kei!”

A large solid warmth collided with him, sending him flying aside as the griffin lashed out. Kuroo crashed into the wall, his head hitting it with a sickening crack. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving. A dark stain began to slowly spread on his shirt.

Horror seized Tsukishima’s gut. “Kuroo!” he shouted, about to scramble to his side despite the adult griffin rearing over him.

A reedy caw split through the cacophony. The great celestial faltered, falling back to all fours.

The baby griffin was in front of Kuroo’s unconscious body, its wings flared out protectively. It cawed again, tail lashing the air. 

Its cry was so feeble and thin compared to its parent’s roar, but the larger one hesitated anyway, casting its head from its child to Kuroo, then to all of them. Bokuto was standing stock-still, staring at the pair with rapt attention. Akaashi was looking from Kuroo to the griffins and back to Kuroo, anxiety written all over him.

Eventually the larger griffin rumbled lowly; not a comforting sound, but not its furious screaming from before. It reached out, dragging its baby closer and scooping it up in its beak. Without acknowledging any of them it turned, marching back through the gateway.

The baby griffin trilled as it passed by Bokuto, and then it and its parent were swallowed up by the column. The gate closed in a single smooth motion like a seam being restitched, taking away the remaining light.

As soon as they were gone, the pressure locking Tsukishima's legs in place vanished. He ran to where he'd seen Kuroo fall, kneeling by his side and gingerly feeling for his head. His hand came away sticky.

A light flared out from behind him; Akaashi had lit a candle. The stickiness was dark on Tsukishima's fingers. 

"Tetsu?" Bokuto's voice was small and frightened at Tsukishima's back.

"He's breathing," Akaashi said, holding the candle above them. Kuroo's face was pale and still, but his chest was moving.

Tsukishima's throat felt like something was lodged in it, making it impossible to speak. The usual heat had leached out of Kuroo’s skin, leaving it lukewarm. Tsukishima peeled back Kuroo's shirt with hands that slightly shook, revealing a single ragged gash in his side where a griffin talon had caught him. It was bleeding steadily.

Akaashi handed the candle to Bokuto to hold and stripped off his shirt, not bothering to tear off bandages like he had before. He got down next to Tsukishima, examining the injury. "It's deep," he said, his level voice belied by the paleness of his face. He balled the shirt up against Kuroo’s stomach. “We have to get help.”

Tsukishima agreed; between keeping Kuroo alive and getting yelled at by a teacher, he didn’t give a shit about getting into trouble. 

“I’ll go,” Bokuto said, leaning to place the candle down.

Tsukishima moved so he could lift Kuroo’s head gently into his lap. He could feel a lump, but the sticky blood wasn’t flowing over his fingers as badly as he’d feared. “I think he could have a concussion.”

Kuroo stirred as Tsukishima ran his fingers carefully through his hair. Akaashi leaned forward; Bokuto whirled back with a “Tetsu?!”, Tsukishima touched Kuroo’s cheek before he could stop himself. “Kuroo-san?”

“Tsukki?” he slurred, his eyelids cracking open a fraction. “You—it didn’t get you, right?”

What the hell, that was the first thing he asked? “You huge fucking idiot, it got you instead,” Tsukishima bit out, relief crashing through him so hard it was dizzying.

“Whoa, whoa, shortcake, calm down,” Kuroo mumbled, making a convulsive movement as if he was trying to sit up. Predictably, he flinched, exhaling sharply in pain.

“Don’t move, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said softly. His hands were still held firm on the gash in Kuroo’s side.

Kuroo squinted at him. “Wha...where’d your shirt go? We playing strip poker?”

“No, we’re playing strip-so-Kuroo-san-doesn’t-bleed-out,” Tsukishima said snappily.

“I should bleed out more often,” Kuroo said absently. Akaashi pushed down harder with the scrunched up shirt and Kuroo winced.

“You ain’t gonna die, bro.”

Kuroo grimaced, his forehead scrunching up.

“He’s not going to die, right?” Bokuto asked Akaashi urgently.

“Nn, just hurts,” Kuroo mumbled before Akaashi could answer. “...good pillow, though.”

Tsukishima massaged his temples, ignoring the ‘compliment’ to his legs. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Kuroo, shoving him aside like that, being all fucking heroic and getting hurt for his sake. _I could have taken it_ , he wanted to say, but he knew that in the state he’d been in—trapped in a cage by the griffin’s power—he’d been in the worst position possible to defend himself. Kuroo had definitely saved him. The anger in Tsukishima’s chest was mixed with a furious kind of happiness, but fear threatened to eclipse all of it.

Footsteps echoed out of the passageway that led into the cavern. They all tensed and looked over—apart from Kuroo, who was just dazed—to see a dark, familiar figure emerge.

"Sawamura-san?” Tsukishima asked blankly.

The half-oceanid straightened as he ducked out of the tunnel, gaze sweeping around the room. Tsukishima saw him take in the remnants of the magic circle, where the faint shimmer of the runes had just died down completely. His eyes came to rest on the four of them by the wall, mouth working furiously but no sound coming out. It seemed he didn’t know what to react to first.

"You guys," he began, strangled, then saw how they were holding Kuroo. "Wait, is that Kuroo? What happened to him?" He hurried over, his ire taking a backseat to concern.

Kuroo screwed up his eyes, focusing on Sawamura with difficulty. "Hey, man," he said groggily, flashing a half-formed peace sign. Then he passed out.

Sawamura stared at his unconscious body in disbelief. "What the _fuck_ ," he said.

“If you’re here, does that mean a teacher came with you?” Akaashi asked, not even looking at the third-year. As soon as he’d recognised Sawamura, he’d focused back on Kuroo.

“Ukai-sensei’s outside,” Sawamura confirmed. “He can get Kuroo back to school faster. No,” he held up a finger to silence Bokuto, “don’t ask how we found you. Anything within a mile’s radius would have heard that griffin.”

Tsukishima chewed his lip, looking at Kuroo. There was still a line of discomfort dug in the centre of his brow despite him being knocked out. 

Sawamura straightened, his disapproval overlaid with worry. “Let’s get you all back to school. Can any of you carry Kuroo out?”

Bokuto elected himself instantly, picking up Kuroo in his arms as if his deadweight was as light as a feather, making sure Kuroo’s tail wasn’t dragging on the ground behind them. They followed Sawamura to the tunnel, Bokuto casting a sad look at the magic circle as he passed it.

It was almost jarring how everything outside looked exactly the same as it had before they entered the cave, as if everything that had happened inside was frozen in a crystal of time. The waterfall flowed down above their heads, soaking Tsukishima’s skin all over again. The rocks they had to climb over were as slippery as before, but he hardly cared.

Tsukishima saw Ukai pacing back and forth beyond the outcrop of boulders, hooves pawing the ground in aggravation. Once he noticed them coming, he opened his mouth as if to start shouting, but the looks on their faces—as well as Kuroo unconscious in Bokuto’s arms—stopped him short. Sawamura hastened over, speaking in a rapid undertone. Ukai didn’t lose the sternness from his face, but he nodded.

It was quickly decided Akaashi would ride the centaur teacher’s back behind Kuroo, holding him in place and keeping pressure on his wound. The three of them vanished into the gloom, leaving Tsukishima, Bokuto, and Sawamura behind. Tsukishima could tell Sawamura wanted to lecture them, but the half-oceanid knew how to read the atmosphere and simply turned to lead the way home with a grim look in his eyes. 

“Tetsu will be fine, right?” Bokuto asked in that same small voice as before.

Kuroo would be alright, Tsukishima told himself. He had to be, with Akaashi taking care of him and Ukai rushing them back to the school’s infirmary with a centaur’s speed. It was a monster school’s infirmary, built to deal with all kinds of students and their odd physiologies. They were more than equipped to handle mere flesh wounds. It was a logical assumption to make.

But Tsukishima still felt that echo of Bokuto’s uncertainty within himself. He was groping for what to do that would calm both of them down but was coming up short, so when Bokuto took his hand, Tsukishima didn’t push him away. He interlocked their fingers, holding on tightly.

The sky was velvet black, studded with white pinpricks of stars. The moon had dipped below the trees.

**e. _(i know you feel the way i do)_**

Kuroo was floating in a warm, endless darkness. Everything was empty, including himself—he was just a collection of hardly self-aware thoughts, but at least nothing was hurting. But he wasn’t feeling anything in particular, either.

Actually, it was kind of boring. If he had arms in this weird little not-consciousness space, he’d be crossing them.

As soon as he found himself thinking that, the darkness brightened like sunrise filtering slowly into a bedroom—then it sharpened considerably, like when that same sunrise light hit your closed eyes at exactly the wrong spot. _Aw, fuck, go back_ , was his first tangible thought, then he woke up.

“Ugghh,” Kuroo groaned. His head was throbbing and there was a dull, persistent pain in his side. Trying to move made it worse, so he held himself still.

He recognised the panelled ceiling of the infirmary, having been there multiple times before. Each bed was sectioned off with divider curtains; he’d been put into the furthest cubicle, where the sunlight streaming in through the window made the sterile white room insultingly bright. Kuroo blinked blearily, his eyes taking their time to adjust. It appeared to be midafternoon at least, the bits of sky he could see a clear deep blue.

There was a heavy, warm weight against his legs. Kuroo raised his neck as much as he could to look down—Bokuto was half-draped across the bed, fast asleep and drooling on the mattress, his arms flung out across Kuroo’s lower body. A little snore whistled through his nose; Kuroo started to chuckle at that, but had to stop when it twigged the pain in his stomach.

Now he could look around without his eyes watering, he saw Akaashi sitting in a chair by the window, also napping. His head drooped down to his chest, which his arms were folded across.

There was no sign of Tsukki, was what Kuroo thought at first, then he noticed the empty chair at the other side of the bed, which had a pink bomber jacket hanging over the back. Kuroo grinned at the little strawberry patches— _so_ very Tsukki-esque—then the divider curtain was pulled back and the jötunn himself ducked through, blonde hair brushing his little black horns, holding a cup of water. He froze when he saw Kuroo was awake.

“Kuroo-san,” he breathed, his face unreadable.

Even though Kuroo could remember how Tsukishima had yelled at him in the cave, that didn’t stop the swell of affection in his chest. He was so utterly glad Tsukishima was in one piece, and it wasn’t him lying in this uncomfortable infirmary bed. “Hey, shortcake,” he said fondly.

Bokuto jerked up as if someone had kicked him in the butt. “Tetsu!” His eyes were a little puffy. “You’re awake!”

Akaashi had stirred too, slowly raising his head to look through the willow leaves hanging past his weary but alert eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Other than feeling like someone tried to gouge out my innards with a pickaxe, I’m doing alright.” Kuroo smiled reassuringly, just plain happy to see them all there. 

Tsukishima set his cup down on the bedside table. He still had that not-quite glare aimed at the floor, pressing his fingers together before him in his discomforted tell. “Kuroo-san,” he said again, sharper this time.

Kuroo’s skin prickled. Somehow he was sensing danger. “Yeah?”

In a single motion his boyfriend slipped off his glasses and leaned down, clenching the collar of Kuroo’s ugly infirmary gown as he pressed his lips to his. It was not a gentle kiss but not forceful, just very— _annoyed_ , but also with a slight messiness that betrayed an underlying desperation.

What really had Kuroo gasping quietly in surprise, though, was that Tsukishima wasn’t using his ice at all. His tongue was still startlingly cold, but it didn’t have the biting quality he so often used to combat Kuroo’s fire. As Tsukishima kissed him, he seemed to steadily draw Kuroo _in_ , taking in his heat, drawing out lines of fire from his throat and inhaling them into his own lungs. The complete absence of resistance was utterly dizzying. Kuroo heard himself make a strangled moan, so brief he wasn’t sure if he had even made it, but the roughness in his throat told him he had.

Surely this had to be hurting Tsukishima somehow, right? Kuroo tried to pull back on the fire rising within him, but Tsukishima just continued kissing him—he’d never been as intent as this, ever—quietly demanding every bit of flame that curled around Kuroo’s tongue.

It was intoxicating; Kuroo was almost lost in the feel of it. Just as he was about to scrape together the resolve to break the kiss, Tsukishima pulled away, panting heavily. He was sweaty, flustered, flushed darker than Kuroo had ever seen.

“Don’t you _ever_ do something like that ever again,” Tsukishima said with breathless fury.

“Oh, Tsukki,” Kuroo said, stroking Tsukishima’s face. He’d do it for any and all of them a thousand times over.

Tsukishima shoved his glasses back on, grabbing up his water and taking a huge gulp. He stared out the window with a mulish expression.

“I think that means you’re forgiven,” Akaashi said quietly, coming to the bed. Tsukishima _hmphed_. “No, don’t apologise—” for Kuroo had started, about to speak, “—it only matters that you’re fine.”

Kuroo shut his mouth again, part of him basking in the little smile Akaashi had. Hell, he was so pretty it should have been illegal.

“Sawa saved you!” Bokuto broke in. “After you were knocked out, it protected you from the other griffin. Sawa was so _tiny_ , but it still listened.”

“I thought it hated me,” Kuroo said in wonder, only half-believing what Bokuto was saying. His fingers (and heart) still stung from the baby griffin’s rejection. “Was anything found out about how it got here?”

His side was throbbing again—the kiss had distracted him from it completely.

Akaashi rubbed his forehead with a knuckle. “Matsukawa-san and Hanamaki-san,” he said. The witch and the fae. “Matsukawa-san was trying to summon Baphomet.”

If Kuroo had been drinking something, he’d have spit it out everywhere at the name of the greater demon. “Seriously? Why?” he demanded (which sent a little jolt through his stomach) even though he had an idea. Half the school knew Matsukawa was dabbling in necromancy and demonology even though they were subjects restricted to higher education.

Akaashi confirmed as much, and then, “Like I had thought, he messed up the runes—that’s what Sawamura-san told me. When the griffin came through, they were somehow knocked unconscious—they never actually saw what they brought through. So when they came to, they thought they’d released a demon and panicked, and came back here to find Sawamura-san.”

“They might as well have released a demon,” Tsukishima groused.

“Aw, Tsukki, you loved Sawa,” Bokuto teased.

“Not so much its parent.”

“Me neither,” Kuroo agreed wholeheartedly. “But I’m gonna have the most wicked scar.”

“Shit, you totally are!” Bokuto flipped up the corner of the blanket before Akaashi slapped his hand back down. Bokuto propped his chin on his hands, undeterred by the reprimand. “It was ugly, man. But because you’re okay, I can say it was cool. You took a _hit_ from a _griffin_.” His eyes were shining.

“And scars are hot,” Kuroo continued for him.

“Yup, scars are hot.”

Kuroo looked at Akaashi, who rolled his eyes. “Fine, they’re hot. Being alive is ‘hotter’, though.”

Bokuro snorted. They all turned to Tsukishima.

“Whatever,” Tsukishima said.

Kuroo grinned widely, recalling the headying unselfishness of Tsukishima’s kiss and how it had made his fire surge through his blood. Bokuto was snickering freely at the jötunn, who set his glass down a bit too violently, splashing Kuroo with water. “Guys,” Akaashi sighed, but Kuroo heard the fondness there as the dryad reached over to wipe the wetness off his face.

Damn, did he really deserve boyfriends like this? 

Confined to the infirmary bed, a stabbing pain in his side and his boyfriends bickering above him, Kuroo Tetsurou felt on top of the world.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My [twitter!](https://twitter.com/tsukichuus) I'm always up to ramble about bkakkrtsk and all combos of their pairings lmao ♡


End file.
